■li  ^clf■^nnfM■l^ 


y^-c^  c^ 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/auntjimmyswillOOwrigiala 


AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 


•Tis^y^o. 


1^ 


AUNT  JIMMY'S    WILL 


BY 


MABEL   OSGOOD   WRIGHT 

AUTHOR  OF   "  BIRDCRAFT,"   "  WABENO  THE   MAGICIAN," 
ETC.,   ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
FLORENCE  SCOVELL   SHINN 


THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd. 
1903 

All  righU  reserved 


Copyright,  1903, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN   COMPANY. 


Set  up,  electrotyped,  and  published  October,  1903. 


Norinootr  T^xta 

J.  8.  Cnihini;  &  Co.  —  Berwick  k  Smith  Oo. 
Norwood,  Masa.,  U.S.A. 


¥> 


MARY   ELIZABETH    MILLER 


$ 


"Aim  at  the  highest,  and  never  mind 
the  money" 


■  L.  M.  Alcott. 


$ 


2138880 


CONTENTS 

CHAFTKR  PAGB 

I,  Red  Pineys i 

II.  Her  Uncle  John 23 

III.  Aunt  Jimmy 38 

IV.  A  Caged  Bird 58 

V.  Mrs.  Lane  plays  Detective     ....  77 

VI.  Bird's  Cousins 103 

VII.  Summer  in  New  York 131 

VIII.  The  Flower  Missionary 146 

IX.  'Ram  Slocum's  Taunt 162 

X.  Lammy  consults  Old  Lucky     .        .        .        .181 

XL  The  Pewter  Tea-pot 202 

XII.  The  Tug  of  War 217 

XIII.  Telltale  Trousers 225 

XIV.  The  Fire-escape 242 

XV.  The  Bird  is  freed 258 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"'Hem!'    The  lawyer  cleared  his  throat "  (p.  52)  Frontispiece 

PAGE 

"  Bird  crouched  in  a  black  heap  " 8 

Bird,  Lammy,  and  Twinkle 13 

"  *  Buy  something  to-day?    Nice  goots  ver'  cheap ' "  .        .  99 

Bird  and  Billy  on  the  fire-escape 137 

"'They  aint  fer  me,  fer  sure?'" 158 

" '  It  means,  Lammy  Lane,  that  the  Lord  don't  forget  the 

orphan'" 230 

"  Bird  was  found  at  last ".......    267 


Aunt  Jimmy's  Will 


RED   PINEYS 

Bird  O'More  crouched  in  a  little  black  heap  in 
the  corner  of  the  sofa  that  stood  between  the  closed 
windows  in  the  farmhouse  sitting  room.  Her  eyes, 
that  looked  straight  before  her,  yet  without  seeing 
anything,  were  quite  dry;  but  her  feverish  cheeks, 
that  she  pressed  against  the  cool  haircloth,  and  the 
twisting  of  her  fingers  in  the  folds  of  her  gown,  told  of 
grief,  as  well  as  her  black  frock  and  the  closed  blinds. 

Outside  the  house,  in  the  road,  half  a  dozen  country 
teams  were  hitched  to  the  rickety  fence,  while  their 
owners  roamed  about  the  yard,  talking  in  low  voices, 
and  occasionally  wondering  aloud  "  when  the  women 
folks  would  be  ready  to  go  home." 

But  the  women  folks  had  no  idea  of  going  yet,  and 
small  wonder,  for  they  had  come  from  a  funeral  that 
had  made  poor  Bird  an  orphan ;  they  had  much  to 


2  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

discuss,  and  without  them,  also,  she  would  be  all 
alone  at  the  farm  that  lay  on  a  straggling  cross-road 
a  mile  from  neighbours,  as  if  it,  like  its  recent  own- 
ers, had  tried  to  hide  from  those  who  had  known  it  in 
better  days. 

The  little  girl  had  been  christened  Bertha,  after 
her  grandmother,  but  as,  from  the  time  she  could 
speak  a  word,  she  was  always  singing,  her  father  had 
called  her  "  Bird."  Yet  this  day  the  little  bird  in  her 
throat  was  mute  and  only  made  a  strange  fluttering ; 
so  that  the  neighbours,  talking  in  whispers  as  they 
drank  the  tea  that  a  stout,  rosy  woman,  who  seemed 
to  be  in  charge,  was  serving  in  the  kitchen,  said, 
"  Poor  child,  if  she'd  only  let  go  and  cry  it  out  nat- 
ural, it  would  do  her  good ;  but  that  dry  sobbing  is 
enough  to  break  a  body's  heart." 

Then,  as  she  gradually  grew  quiet,  dulled  by  fatigue 
and  the  heat  of  the  room,  her  head  sliding  down  on 
her  arm  in  heavy  sleep,  they  drew  sighs  of  relief  and 
their  voices  arose  in  chat  about  the  happenings  of  the 
last  few  days  and  the  natural  question  as  to  what  was 
to  become  of  Bird. 

**  Hasn't  she  got  any  folks  either  side } "  asked  a 
young  woman  who  had  but  recently  moved  into 
Laurelville,  and  did  not  yet  know  the  comings  and 
goings  and  kith  and  kin  of  her  neighbours. 


RED   PINEYS  3 

"  Only  her  father's  half-brother,"  spoke  up  the 
rosy  woman,  Mrs.  Lane  by  name,  "  and  he  lives  way 
down  in  New  York  City.  Joshua  wrote  him  ten 
days  back  when  Mr.  More  took  sick*;  but  he  never 
answered,  so  two  days  ago  he  wrote  again.  Joshua 
says  he  guesses  maybe  they've  moved,  for  folks  are 
awful  restless  down  in  York,  and  shift  around  as 
often  as  every  few  years  —  says  he  reckons  you 
have  to  if  you're  anybody,  cause  there's  sudden  fash- 
ions in  buildings  down  there  as  well  as  in  clothes, 
and  they  get  made  over  frequent  to  keep  in  style, 
likewise  the  streets. 

"  Yes,  I  wouldn't  even  have  known  his  name  if 
Mis'  More  hadn't  told  me  about  him  before  she  died, 
two  years  back.  You  see,"  turning  to  Mrs.  Tilby, 
the  newcomer,  "  she  was  Sarah  Turner,  born  and 
raised  over  at  the  Milltown,  and,  being  an  only 
child,  was  give  her  own  head  a  good  deal.  I  must 
allow  she  was  pretty,  and  had  those  big  black  eyes 
that  you  can't  guess  what  they're  seeing,  same  as 
Bird's  got.  Her  folks  felt  dreadful  bad  when  she 
wouldn't  take  up  with  any  of  the  solid  fellers  who 
would  have  taken  pride  in  the  farm  and  mill  busi- 
ness, but  married  young  O'More  that  nobody  knew 
a  speck  about,  except  that  he  claimed  to  be  an  artist, 
but  folks  didn't  buy  his  pictures,  and  I  don't  wonder, 


4  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

for  there's  some  up  attic  now,  and  you  have  to  stand 
way  back  to  even  see  a  shape  to  'em,  being  not  near 
as  clear  as  those  that  come  extry  with  the  Sunday 
papers. 

"  No,  Mis*  Slocum,  I  dont  take  Sunday  papers,  on 
'count  of  Joshua's  aunt's  husband  being  deacon,  and 
not  desirin'  to  call  trouble  on  the  family ;  but  if  he 
wasn't  I  would,  for  besides  them  pictures  an'  readin' 
an'  advertisements,  that  wonderful  they'd  raise  curi- 
osity in  froze  dough,  there's  your  money's  worth  o' 
paper  for  carpet  linin'  or  kindlin'  over  and  above. 

"  Where  was  I }  Mis'  Slocum,  you  shouldn't  'a' 
set  me  off  the  track,  so's  I'm  not  giving  Mis'  Tilby  a 
clear  idee  of  how  it  was. 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  remember,  —  his  wall  pictures  not  sel- 
lin',  he  got  a  job  to  paint  posies  and  neat  little  views 
the  size  of  your  hand  on  the  inside  covers  of  sewin'- 
machine  boxes  and  trays  and  work-tables  over  in 
Northboro.  It  paid  first-rate,  I  guess,  for  a  spell, 
so  after  the  old  folks  died,  they  sold  out  the  farm 
and  mill  and  moved  into  town. 

"When  Bird  here  was  five  years  old  or  so,  O'More 
had  a  knock-down,  for  they  got  some  kind  of  a  ma- 
chine in  the  factory  that  could  do  pictures  quicker 
than  he,  and  at  the  same  time  the  folks  that  had 
bought  the  place  on  a  mortgage  caved  in,  and,  be- 


RED   PINEYS  5 

tween  havin'  no  sense  themselves  and  lawyers,  most 
everything  was  ate  up  and  mixed  so's  Mis'  O'More 
lost  the  mill  and  all,  and  they  moved  out  here. 

"  Mis'  More  —  folks  round  here  never  could  swal- 
ler  the  O',  it  being  the  sign,  as  it  were,  of  a  furrin 
race  and  religion — just  drew  in  Hke  a  turtle  in  a 
shell,  losin'  hope  altogether,  and  never  went  any 
place.  And  as  for  Terence,  —  that  was  him,  Bird 
always  callin'  him  *  Terry '  like  he  was  her  brother,  — 
I  suppose  he  was  always  what  bustlin'  folks  like  us 
would  call  slack ;  but  after  he  came  here,  he  seemed 
to  grow  happy  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  only  one  shop, 
the  work-box  and  the  picture-frame  one,  gave  him 
jobs.  He  painted  out  his  flowers  as  careful,  no  two 
pictures  alike,  and  when  I  said,  '  Why  don't  you  do 
one  and  copy  it  —  it  would  be  less  trouble,'  he  looked 
up  sort  of  reproachful  and  said,  '  It  makes  me  happy 
to  do  good  work,  Mrs.  Lane ;  a  machine  can  do  the 
other  kind.' 

"  Mis'  More  fretted  herself  to  death,  dumblike, 
same  as  snow  disappears,  and  it's  two  years  now  that 
Bird  and  her  father  have  made  out  to  get  along 
alone.  Once  in  a  time  old  Dinah  Lucky  would 
come  up  and  wash  or  scrub  a  day,  and  he  and  Bird 
always  was  together,  and  he  learned  her  to  be  what 
I  call  a  real  lady,  and  never  hurt  anybody's  feelin's, 


6  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

to  say  poetry  and  write  a  fine  hand,  and  draw  out 
flowers  so  you'd  know  'em  right  off.  The  s'lectmen 
went  after  him  onct  'cause  he'd  never  sent  the  girl  to 
school,  but  when  they  found  she  knew  more'n  the 
grammar  grade,  they  kept  their  hands  off  from  her ; 
and  as  for  speakin',  —  since  she  talked  plain,  she's 
spoke  nicer,  and  chose  her  words  better'n  anybody 
but  story-books  and  the  parson,  which  come  natural, 
her  mother  bein'  well  learned  and  her  father  havin' 
a  tone  of  voice  not  belonging  in  these  parts.  Never 
a  cross  word  did  he  speak  or  a  complaint,  so  I  guess 
it  was  true  he  was  born  a  gentleman  on  one  side,  as 
poor  Sarah  always  claimed,  and  it  stuck  to  him  all 
through,  too,  for  the  day  he  died  he  worried  for 
troublin'  me  to  draw  him  a  cool  drink,  saying,  '  The 
well-sweep  was  out  of  repair,'  which  it  was,  Mis' 
Slocum,  awfid,  'and  too  heavy  for  a  woman  to 
handle,'  as  if  I  wasn't  always  stronger  than  two 
of  him.  But  then  I  never  was,  and  never  will  be, 
his  kind  of  a  lady,  for  there's  folks  whose  feelin's 
I'm  just  achin'  to  hurt  if  I  knew  a  sure  way.  And 
now  to  think  of  it,  Bird  left  at  only  thirteen  with  no 
own  folks  and  little  better'n  nothing." 

"Less  than  nothin',  /  should  say,"  put  in  Mrs. 
Slocum,  setting  her  cup  in  its  saucer  with  an  un- 
necessary clash,   "for   what's  here  won't   pay  Mr. 


RED   PINEYS  7 

Slocum  his  back  rent  on  the  place  and  the  fence 
rails  of  the  south  lot  that  they've  seemingly  used 
for  firin'. .  /  should  say  that  the  clothes  on  the  girl's 
back  didn't  fairly  belong  to  her,  mournin'  and  all. 

"  If  she  is  only  a  little  turned  thirteen  from  what 
you  say  she  has  schoolin'  enough  to  pass  for  fourteen 
and  get  work  in  the  factory.  I'll  keep  her  if  she'll 
help  me  evenings  and  she  gets  enough  to  pay  full 
board,  —  growin'  girls  eats  hearty,"  and  Mrs.  Slo- 
cum settled  back  in  her  chair,  folding  her  arms  as  if 
she  expected  Mrs.  Lane  to  be  speechless  at  her 
generosity. 

Speechless  she  was  for  a  few  moments,  but  for  a 
different  cause  —  a  struggle  between  prudence  and 
a  quick  but  just  temper  —  then  she  said  very  slowly 
and  distinctly:  "  Mis'  Slocum,  the  back  rent  is  not  for 
me  to  deny  you,  but  the  fence  rails  is  and  the  few 
clothes  the  poor  lamb's  wearin'  also.  There  hasn't 
been  any  fence  to  that  south  lot  since  the  summer 
before  my  Sammy  was  born  and  I  was  there  berryin' 
and  noticed  the  rails  was  rotted  and  fell,  and  that's 
fifteen  years !  As  to  clothes,  they  was  give  her  out- 
side of  the  family,  which  was  me,  ma'am,  made  out  of 
those  that  belonged  to  my  Janey  and  for  her  sake,  and 
besides  which  a  minor  child  isn't  liable  for  her  father's 
debts,  *  it  bein'  the  law,'  as  Joshua  says,  and  he  knows. 


8  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

"  I  wouldn't  have  mentioned  this  in  public,  except 
some  folks  needs  to  have  witnesses  around  before 
they  can  take  in  things,  Mis'  Jedge  o'  Probate  Ricker 
bein'  here  makin'  it  quite  suitable  for  me  to  testify. 

"  As  for  who'll  take  her,  there's  those  that'll  ask  no 
board,  but  Joshua  says  '  no  one's  got  a  right  until  the 
uncle  either  turns  up  or  else  doesn't,'  which  I'd  much 
prefer.  And  there'll  be  no  talk  of  factory  and  passin' 
her  for  above  her  age,  Mis'  Slocum,  I  bein'  the  niece- 
in-law  to  a  deacon,  as  I've  said  before,  should  feel 
called  upon  to  testify  and  give  the  truth  a  full  airing." 

Whatever  action  Mrs.  Slocum  would  have  taken,  it 
was  sidetracked  by  the  minister's  wife,  who,  with  a 
sharp  warning  cough  and  a  hurried  "s'h'ush,  she's 
awake,"  turned  the  attention  toward  the  darkened 
room  again. 

Bird  rubbed  her  eyes  drowsily,  then  started  up 
murmuring,  "Yes,  Terry,  I'm  coming,  I  didn't  mean 
to  fall  asleep,"  as  if  she  fancied  herself  called,  stum- 
bled toward  the  door,  saw  the  kitchen  full  of  people, 
while  the  bright  light  and  lilac  perfume  of  the  May 
afternoon  came  through  the  open  door.  Then  she 
remembered. 

"  Here,  let  me  wash  your  face  and  freshen  you  up 
a  bit,"  said  Mrs.  Lane,  whisking  out  a  clean  handker- 
chief and  dipping  it  in  the  water  bucket,  while  at  the 


RED    PINEYS  9 

same  time  she  put  her  arm  around  Bird  to  cut  off  her 
retreat.  "  Now,  that  is  better.  Just  a  sip  of  tea, 
dearie,  and  a  bite,  and  then  go  out  and  get  a  mouthful 
of  air,  while  I  open  up  the  windows,  for  it's  sizzling 
in  here  if  it  does  lack  two  days  yet  of  almanac 
summer." 

The  child  did  as  she  was  told,  gave  her  friend  one 
grateful  look,  and  slipped  out  the  door  without  speak- 
ing, much  to  the  relief  of  the  others,  the  minister's 
wife  nodding  caution  to  Mrs.  Tilby  who  said :  "  Sakes 
alive !  she  scart  me  silly,  gropin'  in  that  way.  I  do 
wonder  how  much  she  heard." 

Meanwhile  as  Bird  disappeared  around  the  house  a 
tall  boy,  carrying  a  big  bunch  of  red  peonies,  came 
up  the  track  in  the  grass  that  served  as  a  path.  It 
was  Sammy,  or  Lammy  Lane,  as  he  was  usually 
called,  clad  in  his  best  clothes  and  red  with  running, 
having  only  come  to  a  full  stop  as  he  reached  the 
kitchen  door,  where  he  stood  looking  anxiously  in, 
the  flowers  clutched  nervously  in  both  hands. 

"  Lammy  Lane,  where've  you  bin,  to  go  and  miss 
the  funeral  and  all,  when  I  started  you  out  close  after 
breakfast .-' "  asked  his  mother,  fiercely,  yet  with  an 
air  of  relief. 

"  Catchin'  fish  in  the  brook  with  his  eyes,  I  reckon," 
said  Mrs.  Slocum,  with  a  glittering  smile,  which  was 


10  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

very  trying  to  Mrs.  Lane,  for  Lammy,  the  youngest 
of  her  three  sons,  was  not  esteemed  over  clever,  in 
fact  a  sort  of  village  Johnny-Look-in-the-Air,  always 
going  to  do  something  that  he  never  did,  and  lacking 
in  courage  to  boot.  In  fact  the  twisting  of  the  name 
of  Sammy  into  Lammy  was  really  a  slur  upon  his 
lack  of  sand  and  the  fighting  spirit  natural  to  the 
average  boy. 

It  is  perfectly  true  that  Lammy  at  this  time  was 
not  a  beauty  with  his  tousled  reddish  hair,  freckles, 
and  lean  colt's  legs,  but  no  one  who  was  a  judge  of 
faces  could  look  in  his  straightforward  gray  eyes  and 
at  the  firm  line  of  his  chin  without  feeling  that  here 
was  the  makings  of  a  man,  if  people  did  not  meddle 
with  the  plan  God  had  for  his  work. 

Lammy's  eyes  roved  about,  and,  not  seeing  the  ob- 
ject he  wanted,  answered  his  mother  slowly,  as  if  it 
was  hard  to  remember  exactly  where  he  had  been. 

"  I've  been  at  Aunt  Jimmy's  most  all  day  until 
now,"  he  answered.  "  When  I  took  the  butter  down 
after  breakfast,  she  wanted  me  to  help  her  fix  up 
cause  she  didn't  feel  smart,  'n'  then  there  was  the 
chickens  to  feed,  and  Jake  he  didn't  go  yesterday  to 
spread  the  grass  under  the  strawberries,  and  she  said 
if  it  rained,  they'd  spoil,  so  I  did  that ;  'n'  then  I  ate 
dinner,  'n'  dressed  up  again  and  started.     Then  I  re- 


RED   PINEYS  II 

membered  I  told  Bird  I'd  cut  her  some  o'  Aunt  Jim- 
my's red  pineys  for  her  to  take  along  up  there,"  nod- 
ding his  head  backward  toward  the  hillside  graveyard. 

"Aunt  Jimmy's  awful  particular  about  those  red 
pineys,  and  she  wouldn't  let  me  cut  'em.  She  came 
out  in  the  yard  to  do  it  herself,  but  it  took  her  a  long 
while,  and  when  she'd  got  them  tied  up,  she  said, 
*  Best  go  to  the  house  now  for  they'll  be  back,  and 
tell  your  ma  to  come  over  to-night,  for  somehow  I 
feel  all  strange  and  worked  up  as  if  I  was  going  to 
have  a  spell,'  and  that's  why  I'm  late,  and  where's 
Bird  ?  "  he  ended  abruptly. 

"  Lammy  Lane,  do  you  mean  that  aunt  is  threat- 
ened with  a  spell,  and  you've  took  all  this  time  to  tell 
me  ? "  said  Mrs.  Lane,  hardly  believing  her  ears. 

"  Neighbours,  I'll  have  to  close  up  here,  Joshua  bein' 
in  charge,  as  it  were,  as  Mis'  Jedge  o'  Probate  Ricker 
understands,  until  a  'ministrator's  fixed  on,  but  we 
can  meet  to-morrow  forenoon  to  wash  up  and  discuss 
the  situation.  Goodness  me,  I  hope  Aunt  Jimmy's 
no  more'n  overtired  !  " 

"'Twouldn't  be  surprisin'  if  you  was  resigned  to 
the  worst,  seein'  your  expectations  through  being  the 
favourite  nephew's  wife,"  said  Mrs.  Slocum,  slyly. 

"  Expectations,  fiddlesticks !  "  snorted  Mrs.  Lane, 
"you  know  perfectly  well,  Mis'   Slocum,  that  the 


12  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

Lord  and  I  are  working  together  as  hard  as  we  can 
to  give  Aunt  Jimmy  every  breath  of  life  that's  com- 
ing to  her,  and  seein'  that  she  enjoys  it  too,  her 
ownin'  the  best  southslope  fruit  garden  between  Mill- 
town  and  Northboro  having  nothing  to  do  with  it. 

"  Lammy,  do  you  go  round,  and  I  guess  you'll  find 
Bird  back  of  the  shed,  and  you  can  take  her  a  walk 
to  fetch  the  posies  up  yonder,  and  then  bring  her 
down  to  our  house  for  supper;  and  if  I  don't  get 
back  first,  the  butt'ry  key  is  in  the  kitchen  clock,  and 
you  and  pa  can  set  out  a  full  table. 

"  Young  company's  best  for  the  young  in  sorrow," 
she  added  to  the  group  as  Lammy  shot  off. 

"  Yes,  Mis'  Slocum,  those  spoons  is  real  silver,  but 
biting  'em  '11  injure  them  new  teeth  o'  yourn,  and  not 
profit  you  anything,  for  they're  my  spoons  I  fetched 
up  for  the  funeral,  minding  how  well  the  Turners 
always  set  out  things  at  such  times  in  the  old  days." 

With  this  parting  shot  Mrs.  Lane  shooed  the 
women  out  and  locked  the  door,  called  Joshua  from 
the  group  of  men  who  were  examining  a  broken- 
down  grindstone  for  lack  of  better  occupation, 
climbed  into  the  old  buggy,  and  disappeared  in  a 
cloud  of  dust,  the  others  following  until  they  scat- 
tered at  the  four  corners. 

*♦*»*♦ 


Bird,  Lammy,  and  Twinkle. 


W^mmi 


RED   PINEYS  13 

As  Mrs.  Lane  had  said,  Bird  was  behind  the  shed. 
She  was  sitting  on  an  old  log,  her  face  between  her 
hands,  as  she  looked  across  the  fresh  green  grass  to 
where  the  ragged  spiraeas  and  purple  and  white 
lilacs  waved  against  the  sky.  Leaning  against  her 
knees  was  a  queer  little  rough-haired,  brown  terrier 
with  unkempt,  lopping  ears,  his  keen  eyes  intent  on 
her  face  as  if  he  knew  that  she  was  in  trouble,  and 
only  waited  for  some  signal  that  he  might  under- 
stand to  go  to  her  aid,  while  he  vainly  licked  her 
hands  to  attract  her  attention. 

As  Lammy  came  around  the  corner  suddenly,  at 
first  the  dog  gave  a  growl,  and  then  bounding  toward 
the  boy  fairly  leaped  into  his  arms  in  joy,  for 
Twinkle,  named  for  his  keen  twitching  eyes,  had 
once  been  Lammy's  best-beloved  pup,  that  he  had 
given  to  Bird  for  a  companion. 

"  Hello,  Twinkle,  where've  you  been  these  days  ? " 
said  the  boy,  holding  the  flowers  at  arm's-length  with 
one  hand,  while  he  tucked  the  little  dog  between  his 
shoulder  and  neck  with  the  other.  "  Seems  to  me 
you've  got  pretty  thin  wherever  you've  tramped  to." 

"  He  hasn't  been  away,"  answered  Bird,  looking 
up  ;  "  he  was  hiding  all  the  time  in  Terry's  —  I  mean 
father's  room,  and  to-day,  after  they  took  Mm  away, 
he  knew  it  wasn't  any  use  waiting  any  longer,  and 


14  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

he  came  out,  and  Lammy,  you  —  know  —  he's  —  all 
—  I've  —  got  —  now,"  and,  burying  her  face  in  the 
terrier's  ragged  coat,  she  broke  into  a  perfect  storm 
of  crying. 

Lammy  felt  like  crying,  too,  and  in  fact  a  tear 
rolled  so  far  down  on  his  cheek  that  he  had  to  strug- 
gle hard  to  lick  it  up,  for  Bird  was  his  dear  friend, 
the  only  girl  in  the  village  who  had  never  laughed  at 
him  or  called  him  "  Nose-in-the-Air,"  or  "Look-up- 
Lammy,"  and  seemed  to  understand  the  way  in  which 
he  saw  things.  At  first  he  looked  around  helplessly, 
and  then  remembering  that  his  mother  had  gone,  and 
that  he  must  get  Bird  down  to  his  home  before  sup- 
per-time, he  blurted  out :  "  Say,  don't  you  reckon 
Twinkle's  pretty  hungry  by  this  ?  I  guess  we'd  bet- 
ter get  him  some  feed  down  to  my  house,  and  you 
can  leave  these  red  pineys  over  yonder  as  we  go 
along  if  you  like." 

Lammy  could  not  have  done  better,  for  Bird 
sprang  up  instantly,  all  the  pity  aroused  for  the  dog, 
and,  turning  toward  the  house,  said  :  "  How  selfish  of 
me;  we'll  go  in  and  get  him  something  right  away. 
Do  you  think  the  people  have  gone  yet?  'They 
mean  kindly,'  Terry  used  to  say.  I  must  never  for- 
get that,  but  they  talked  so  much  I  couldn't  seem  to 
bear  it." 


RED   PINEYS  15 

"  Yes,  they've  gone ;  mother  wouldn't  leave  them 
behind  'cause  of  Mis'  Slocum,"  and  he  began  to  tell 
her  about  his  Aunt  Jimmy's  ill  turn  and  of  his  delay 
in  getting  back  with  the  flowers. 

Bird  listened  quietly,  and  as  they  stood  before  the 
door  of  the  silent,  empty  house,  a  strange  look 
crossed  the  girl's  face  that  frightened  poor  gentle 
Lammy,  as  she  gazed  straight  before  her  and  said: 
"  Now  I  know  that  I  was  not  asleep  this  afternoon, 
only  dull  and  faint,  and  that  what  I  thought  was  a 
dream  was  partly  true.  Terry  did  owe  rent  to  Mrs. 
Slocum,  and  that  was  what  he  tried  to  tell  me  and 
couldn't  when  he  said  there  was  only  a  little  bit  of 
money  in  the  Centre  bank  to  pay  for  things,  so  that  I 
must  be  sure  and  keep  his  paint-box  and  the  pictures 
in  the  big  portfolio.  The  Slocums  might  try  to  take 
them.  That's  why  your  mother  made  the  people  go 
and  locked  the  door.  Oh,  Lammy,  I  haven't  any 
home  or  anything  of  my  very  own  but  Twinkle,  but 
I  could  work  and  learn  to  paint.  Terry  said  I  could 
and  if  everything  gave  out,  I  can  open  the  keepsake 
bag.  See,  I've  got  it  now,"  and  Bird  pulled  out  a 
small,  flat,  leather  case,  strongly  sewed  together,  that 
hung  close  around  her  neck  on  a  thin  gold  chain. 

"  Do  you  know  what's  in  it  ? "  asked  Lammy, 
fingering  it  curiously. 


i6  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

"  No,  but  I  think  it's  a  piece  of  gold  money;  for 
it's  round,  though  one  side  is  thicker  than  the  other. 
Mother  wore  it,  and  then  father  put  it  about  my  neck 
for  me  to  keep,  and  he  said  his  mother  gave  it  to  him 
when  he  came  away  from  home  long  ago." 

As  Bird  stood  looking  at  the  house,  the  afternoon 
shadows  began  to  fall  and  a  change  came  over  her. 
That  morning  the  thought  of  leaving  the  place 
frightened  her,  but  now  the  thing  she  most  wanted 
was  to  get  away.  "  Lammy,"  she  cried  presently, 
"we  must  get  those  pictures  and  the  paint-box  now; 
to-morrow  the  people  may  come  back." 

"  But  mother's  taken  the  key." 

"  That  doesn't  matter,  the  cellar-door  flap  doesn't 
fasten  —  it  never  has  since  I  can  remember  —  we 
can  go  in  that  way,"  and  then  Lammy,  quaking 
mightily,  though  he  didn't  know  why,  followed  Bird 
into  the  house. 

Love  lights  up  many  a  dark,  shabby  room,  and  Bird 
had  never  been  lonely  with  her  father  for  a  compan- 
ion, and  in  spite  of  his  own  shiftlessness  and  poverty 
he  had  taught  her  much  that  she  never  would  forget ; 
but  now  love  had  gone,  and  as  she  crept  down  the 
rickety  stairs  hugging  the  box,  Lammy  stumbling 
after  with  the  portfolio,  her  only  desire  was  to  go 
somewhere,  anywhere  to  get  away,  lingering  only  a 


RED    PINEYS  17 

moment  in  the  kitchen  to  collect  some  scraps  of  food 
for  the  dog.  When  they  reached  the  porch,  they 
stopped  to  fasten  the  things  together  with  some 
twine  from  Lammy's  pocket.  The  portfolio  was  full 
of  flower  pictures  and  some  designs  such  as  wall- 
papers are  made  from.  Bird  turned  them  over 
lovingly,  explaining  as  she  did  so  that  a  man  in  New 
York  had  written  to  Terry  that  if  he  could  do  these 
well,  he  could  earn  money,  and  that  he  was  only  wait- 
ing for  spring  flowers  to  begin.  The  letter  was  still 
in  the  portfoHo. 

*'  See,"  she  said,  "  here  is  one  of  red  peonies  all 
ready  to  put  the  last  color  in,  and  father  was  only 
waiting  for  them  to  bloom,  but  it  is  too  late  now,  so 
we  will  take  them  to  him,"  and  she  took  the  bouquet 
from  Lammy,  gently  kissing  each  of  the  glowing 
flowers ;  and  then  they  went  out  of  the  yard  in 
silence.  Twinkle  first,  then  Lammy  with  the  bundle, 
while  Bird  hesitated  a  moment;  lifting  the  sagging 
gate  she  dragged  it  to,  fastened  it  to  the  post  with 
the  old  barrel  hoop  that  had  replaced  the  latch,  and 
with  one  parting  look  shook  the  tears  from  her  long 
lashes  and  walked  straight  down  the  road.  At  the 
gate  of  the  little  graveyard  Lammy  put  down  the 
bundle,  and  they  went  in  together. 

"  See,  I've  made  it  look  nice  until  dad  can  turf  it 


i8  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

over,"  said  Lammy,  "  and  put  a  little  Christmas  tree 
for  a  head-mark,"  and  sure  enough  the  mound  that  a 
few  hours  before  was  a  heap  of  rough  gravel  was 
green  with  young  bay  berry  twigs  and  spruce  branches, 
for  on  the  upper  side  of  the  hill  had  once  been  a 
great  nursery  of  evergreens,  the  seed  had  scattered, 
and  the  fragrant  little  Christmas  trees  had  run  all 
down  the  hill  and  clustered  in  groups  around  the 
fence  posts. 

Kneeling  very  carefully.  Bird  arranged  the  crim- 
son peonies.  The  country  folk  thought  only  white 
flowers  proper  for  such  a  place,  but  Bird  loved  colour 
and  Lammy's  gift  cheered  her  more  than  any  words. 

"Janey's  close  by  here  and  grandma,"  said 
Lammy,  presently,  "so  it  won't  be  a  bit  lonesome 
for  your  father,  and  I  was  hoping  to-day  that  he'd 
remember  to  tell  Janey  that  you're  going  to  be  my 
sister  now  and  come  down  and  live  at  our  house,  for 
she'll  be  glad  that  mother  and  I  won't  be  so  lone- 
some as  we've  been  at  our  home  since  she  went 
to  heaven.  'Cause  you  will  stop  with  us,  won't 
you .'' "  he  added  earnestly  as  he  saw  Bird  hesitate. 
"Mother's  going  to  fix  it  just  as  soon  as  she  gets 
word  from  your  uncle.  She  didn't  want  to  write, 
only  dad  said  she'd  ought  to  because  of  the  law  or 
something." 


RED   PINEYS  19 

**  I'll  always  love  you,  Lammy,"  said  Bird,  slowly, 
the  tears  gathering  again,  "  and  I  never  can  like  any 
place  so  much  as  this,  and  I'll  never  forget  to-day 
and  the  red  peonies  and  your  covering  up  the  ugly 
stones,  but  I've  got  to  earn  my  living  and  I  can't 
be  a  drag  on  anybody.  I  thought,  you  know,  if 
there  was  enough  left  to  get  to  a  city,  —  New  York, 
perhaps,  —  I  might  learn  to  paint  quicker,  and  per- 
haps the  man  that  wanted  Terry  to  make  pictures 
for  wall-paper  might  tell  me  how,"  and  then  the 
poor  child,  tired  and  overcome  with  the  long  strain 
and  the  new  loneliness,  could  keep  up  no  longer,  and, 
throwing  her  arms  about  Lammy's  neck,  sobbed, 
"  Oh,  take  me  somewhere  out  of  sight,  for  I  feel  as 
if  I  was  all  falling — way  down  a  —  deep  —  well." 

Poor  little  Bird !  All  that  she  knew  of  the  great 
city  was  from  the  pictures  in  the  papers  and  an 
occasional  magazine,  and  it  seemed  to  her  so  big 
and  gay  and  busy  that  there  must  be  some  place 
in  it  for  her,  and  now  that  night  was  coming,  the 
country  felt  so  empty  and  lonely  to  the  little  girl, 
faint  from  weariness,  and  with  the  door  of  all  the 
home  she  had  known  closed  upon  her.  For  no  one 
but  Lammy  had  had  time  to  really  comfort  her, 
and  in  her  unhappiness  God  seemed  to  have  taken 
her  parents  away  and  then  hidden  Himself.     If  only 


20  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

Aunt  Jimmy  had  not  had  the  spell  just  then  and  she 
could  have  laid  her  head  on  Mrs.  Lane's  motherly- 
bosom,  how  different  it  might  all  have  been.  A 
carriage  passed  as  they  turned  into  the  highway,  and 
the  clanking  of  the  harness  made  Bird  lift  her  head 
from  Lammy's  shoulder  where  she  had  hidden  it, 
and  looking  up  she  met  the  eyes  of  a  young  girl 
who  was  sitting  alone  on  the  back  seat  of  the  hand- 
some victoria.  She  was  perhaps  sixteen,  or  a  little 
over,  —  the  braids  of  pale  golden  hair  were  fastened 
up  loosely  behind,  —  and  she  was  beautifully  dressed ; 
but  it  was  not  the  clothes  but  her  sweet  face  and 
wistful  big  gray  eyes  that  made  Bird  look  a  second 
time,  and  then  the  carriage  had  passed  by. 

"  How  happy  she  must  be,"  thought  Bird. 

"  I'd  rather  walk  than  ride,  and  wear  stubby  shoes, 
or  go  barefoot,  if  I  only  had  a  brother  so  that  I  need 
not  go  alone,"  was  what  the  other  girl  thought. 

"  That's  Miss  Marion  Clarke  that  lives  in  the  big 
stone  house  on  the  hill  before  you  come  to  North- 
boro,"  quoth  Lammy.  "There's  only  one  of  her, 
and  she  can  have  everything  she  wants."  Then 
he  straightway  forgot  her.  Bird  did  not,  however, 
for  there  was  something  in  the  gray  eyes  that  would 
not  let  themselves  be  forgotten. 

By  the  time   they  reached   the  Lane  farmhouse 


RED   PINEYS  21 

Bird  was  quiet  again,  though  her  eyes  drooped  with 
sleep,  and  Lammy  was  telling  eagerly  how  next 
autumn  they  could  perhaps  go  over  to  Northboro 
to  school,  for  drawing  was  taught  there,  and,  he 
confided  to  Bird  what  had  never  before  taken  the 
form  of  words,  that  he  too  longed  to  learn  to  draw, 
not  flowers,  but  machinery  and  engines,  such  as 
pulled  the  trains  over  at  the  Centre. 

As  they  came  in  sight  of  the  house  Lammy 
noticed  that  there  was  a  strange  team  at  the  gate, 
a  buggy  from  the  livery-stable  at  the  Centre,  for 
quiet  Lammy  kept  his  eyes  open,  and  knew  almost 
every  horse  in  the  county.  On  the  stoop  a  short, 
thick-set  man,  with  a  fat,  clean-shaven  face,  and  clad 
in  smart  black  clothes,  stood  talking  to  Lammy's 
father. 

Both  men  glanced  up  the  road  from  time  to  time, 
and  then  Lammy  noticed  that  the  stranger  held  his 
watch  in  his  hand,  and  he  kept  fidgeting  and  look- 
ing at  it  as  if  in  a  great  hurry. 

As  the  children  entered  the  gate  they  heard  Mr. 
Lane  say,  "  Here  she  is  now,  but  you  can't  catch 
that  evenin'  train  from  the  Centre;  you'll  have  to 
put  over  here  until  morning." 

Bird  gave  a  gasp  and  instinctively  clutched 
Lammy's  hand.     Could  this  be  some  one  from  her 


22  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

uncle?  Of  course  it  was  not  he  himself,  for  her 
father  had  been  youngish,  tall  and  slight,  with  fair 
hair,  small  feet  and  hands,  while  this  man  was  all 
of  fifty,  and  had  a  rough  and  common  look  in  spite 
of  his  clothes  that  did  not  match  his  heavy  boots  and 
clumsy  grimy  hands. 

For  a  moment  Bird  forgot  the  story  of  her  father's 
boyhood  that  he  had  so  often  told  her,  forgot  that 
fifteen  years  and  a  different  mother  separated  him 
from  his  half-brothers,  and  when  Mr.  Lane  called 
her,  as  she  tried  to  slip  in  at  the  side  door  after 
Lammy,  saying,  "  Come  here.  Bird,  this  is  your 
Uncle  John  O'More  come  from  New  York,"  she 
could  only  keep  from  falling  by  an  effort,  and  stood 
still,  nervously  twisting  her  hands  in  the  skirt  of  her 
black  frock  without  being  able  to  speak  a  word, 
while  Twinkle  seated  himself  at  her  feet  looking 
anxiously,  first  at  the  stranger,  then  at  Mr.  Lane, 
with  his  head  cocked  on  one  side. 


II 

HER  UNCLE  JOHN 

"  Got  a  start  ?  Didn't  expect  to  see  me  here,  did 
you  ?  else  maybe  you  never  knew  you  had  an  Uncle 
John,"  said  the  stranger,  by  way  of  greeting,  taking 
Bird  roughly,  but  not  unkindly,  by  the  shoulders  and 
looking  her  full  in  the  face.  Then,  noticing  how  pale 
she  was  and  that  her  eyes  were  red  with  crying,  he 
let  her  go  with  a  pat  of  his  heavy  hand  that  shook 
her  through  and  through,  saying,  half  to  her  and  half 
to  Mr.  Lane,  "  Go  along  in  now  and  get  your  supper. 
You  look  done  up,  and  I  wouldn't  object  to  a  bite 
myself  since  I've  got  to  hang  around  over  night; 
been  chasing  round  after  you  since  morning,  and 
those  sandwiches  I  got  at  that  tumble-down  ranch  at 
what  they  call  the  Centre  were  made  up  of  last  year's 
mule-heel.  They  ain't  gone  further'n  here  yet,"  he 
added,  striking  his  chest  that  was  covered  by  a 
showy  scarf,  emphatically. 

Bird  began  to  breathe  more  freely  to  know  he  was 
going  away  in  the  morning.  Her  father  had  told  her 
in  one  of  the  long  sleepless  nights  of  his  illness  about 

23 


24  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

his  two  half-brothers,  one  in  Australia,  as  far  as  he 
knew,  and  the  other  in  New  York.  Their  mother 
had  been  a  strong,  black-eyed,  south-country  lass,  but 
his  mother,  the  wife  of  his  father's  later  years,  was  a 
gentle,  fair-haired,  English  girl,  the  governess  in  the 
family  to  which  his  father  was  steward.  At  her 
death  when  he  was  a  lad  of  about  fifteen,  family 
differences  arose,  and  he  had  gone  to  his  mother's 
people  until  he  finally  came  to  America  with  this 
brother  John. 

John  was  sturdy  and  coarse-grained ;  Terence  deli- 
cate and  sensitive.  They  soon  parted,  and  in  the 
years  between  the  artist  had  written  occasionally  to 
his  brother,  but  kept  him  in  ignorance  of  his  poverty. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  knowing  it  all.  Bird  was  bitterly  dis- 
appointed in  her  uncle.  She  built  hopes  about  him, 
for  did  he  not  live  in  New  York,  and  there  were 
schools  where  painting  was  taught  in  that  magical 
city,  also  the  man  lived  there  who  wanted  the  wall- 
papers. Ah,  if  her  uncle  had  only  been  different,  he 
might  have  asked  her  to  visit  him  or  perhaps  even 
have  known  the  wall-paper  man  himself. 

But  this  uncle  seemed  an  impossibility  and  fairly 
repelled  her,  so  that  to  get  out  of  his  sight  was  all  she 
desired.  Presently  she  went  into  the  house,  and,  after 
carefully  dusting  her  plain,  little,  black  straw  hat  and 


HER   UNCLE  JOHN  25 

laying  it  on  the  sofa  in  the  best  room,  she  covered 
her  new  dress  with  Mrs.  Lane's  gingham  apron  that 
hung  on  its  usual  peg  and  fell  to  work  at  helping 
Lammy  with  the  supper. 

Now  Bird  was  a  clever  little  housewife  while 
Lammy  was  very  clumsy  at  the  work,  so  that  in  a 
few  minutes  they  were  both  absorbed  and  chatting 
quite  cheerfully,  never  dreaming  of  the  conversation 
that  was  going  on  in  the  north  porch.  Only  the 
white-curtained  windows  of  the  best  room  could  hear 
it,  and  they  were  shut  tight. 

**  Now,  Mr.  Lane,  since  the  youngster's  gone  in,  I 
guess  we  might  as  well  get  right  down  to  business. 
I've  shown  you  my  papers  and  proofs,  and  there's  no 
special  use  rubbing  it  into  her  that  her  father  was  a 
dead  failure  clear  from  the  start,  and  that  the  sticks 
of  furniture  he  left  and  the  few  dollars  banked  or 
coming  from  his  work  '11  only  square  up  his  accounts 
and  leave  the  kid  on  the  world,  so  to  speak.  I  own 
I'm  clean  flabbergasted  myself,  for  I  thought  he  was  a 
man  of  some  property  through  his  wife,  for  when  he 
wrote,  his  letters  were  chuck  full  of  high  ideas  for 
the  girl  here." 

Joshua  Lane  fidgeted  miserably  on  the  edge  of  his 
chair,  and  if  ever  a  man  longed  for  the  presence  and 
ready  tongue  of  his  wife,  it  was  he. 


26  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

"I  suppose  that's  one  way  o'  lookin'  at  it,"  he 
assented  after  a  while,  "  but  mebbe  in  some  way  he 
didn't  flat  out  so  much  as  it  looks.  He  never  gave 
an  ill  word  to  any  one,  and  Bird  here's  as  smart  and 
talkable  and  writes  a  fist  as  good  as  the  seminary 
principal  over  to  Northboro,  all  through  his  teachin', 
so  no  wonder  she  set  a  store  by  him.  As  to  leavin* 
the  child  on  the  world,  she'll  never  feel  the  hurtin' 
edge  of  it  while  mother  and  Joshua  Lane's  got  roof 
and  bite.  I  told  O'More  so,  and  I  reckon  it  eased 
him  considerable." 

"Smart,  is  she?"  echoed  the  other;  "that's  a 
mercy.  Girls  have  to  get  a  move  on  them  nowadays 
in  the  city,  and  if  they  can't  start  in  at  type-writing 
or  something  when  they're  sixteen  or  so,  they  get 
shoved  out  of  the  race  as  leftovers  by  a  new  lot 
before  they've  earned  their  ten  a  week.  I've  got  a 
good  job  now,  but  I've  had  to  hustle  for  it  and  keep 
a  lively  step,  too.  That's  why  it  goes  hard  to  lose 
two  days'  time  on  this  business.  I  was  mighty 
afraid  when  I  saw  what  a  forsaken  hole  this  was 
that  the  girl  might  be  green  as  the  grass,  and  n,  g. 
altogether.  No,  I  didn't  mean  any  offence,"  he  said, 
as  he  noticed  Joshua's  face  flush  at  his  reference  to 
the  pretty  hillside  village,  "  but  I've  never  had  a  use 
for  the  country.     Give  me  streets  with  a  push   of 


HER   UNCLE   JOHN  27 

people  and  a  lively  noise  and  trolleys  going  by  at 
night  to  remind  you  yer  alive,  if  you  don't  sleep 
straight  through. 

"  Of  course,  knowing  nothing  of  the  circumstances 
before  I  left,  I  couldn't  quite  fix  a  plan,  —  might  have 
had  to  wait  around  and  see  to  that  mill  property  if  it 
hadn't  vamoosed,  but  as  it  is,  I  don't  see  why  Bird 
shouldn't  go  right  back  with  me  to-morrow  morning. 
I've  got  three  lively  boys  besides  a  poor  little  crippled 
feller,  —  them  and  the  city  sights  '11  cheer  her  up. 
It's  different  from  what  I  thought  to  find,  and  I  don't 
owe  Terry  any  favours  of  purse  or  tongue,  but  I've 
no  girls,  and  blood's  thicker  'n  water  even  though  the 
English  streak  is  heatin'  to  an  all-through  Irishman, 
—  but  let  that  go.  I'll  give  her  some  schooling 
until  she's  fit  age  to  choose  her  trade,  or  if  she's 
tasty  looking,  get  in  some  good  shop,  and  she  can 
ease  her  way  along  meantime  in  minding  little  Billy 
or  helping  the  woman  out.  For  I'd  have  you  know 
that  though  I've  a  good  job,  and  there's  always  meat 
in  the  pot,  we're  plain  people  of  no  pretence.  I've 
money  in  a  land  company,  though,  that'll  soon  give  us 
our  own  home  and  not  so  far  out  either  but  what  a 
gun  would  shoot  into  the  Bowery." 

John  O'More's  speech  poured  out  so  rapidly  that 
it  almost  stunned  Joshua  Lane.  When  he  pulled  him- 


28  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

self  together,  he  gasped :  "  Did  you  say  that  you 
calkerlate  to  take  Bird  away  from  us  and  to-morrow 
at  that  ?  I'll  have  to  go  down  to  Aunt  Jimmy's,  I 
reckon,  and  call  mother  to  onct,"  but  as  he  started 
from  his  chair  "  mother "  appeared,  coming  up  the 
road  in  the  buggy  clucking  vigorously  to  the  old  gray 
horse,  excitement  written  in  every  line  of  her  homely, 
lovable  face. 

As  she  pulled  up  the  horse  at  the  gate,  an  entirely 
unnecessary  labour  as  for  the  past  ten  years  he  had 
never  willingly  gone  past  it,  Joshua,  wearing  a  white, 
scared  look  upon  his  usually  placid  face,  greeted  her 
with :  "  Sakes  alive,  Lauretta  Ann,  I'm  wonderful 
put  out ;  it  never  rains  but  it  pours ;  an'  's  if  there 
wasn't  enough  trouble  for  one  day.  Bird's  uncle, 
John  O'More,  has  turned  up.  He's  a  rough,  drivin', 
quick-tongued  sort  o'  chap,  like  the  travellin'  man 
that  sold  us  the  horse-rake  that  had  fits  of  balking 
and  tearin'  up  the  medder,  and  when  I  complained, 
he  said,  says  he,  *  Why,  certainly,  I  forgot  it  had  the 
plough  combination,  —  I  had  oughter  asked  you  an 
extry  five  on  it.'  " 

"  Nonsense,  Joshua  Lane,  nobody's  going  to  carry 
Bird  off  under  our  very  noses,  uncle  or  no  uncle ;  I'll 
soon  settle  that !  But  talking  of  pourin'  rain,  —  it's  cer- 
tainly let  drive  on  us  this  day,  for  your  Aunt  Jimmy's 


HER   UNCLE   JOHN  29 

had  a  stroke ;  and  though  she  can't  move  she  can  speak 
her  mind  still,  and  isn't  for  lettin'  folks  in  or  havin' 
things  done  for  her  as  she  ought.  I've  left  Dinah 
Lucky  with  her,  and  I've  stopped  at  Doctor  Jedd's 
and  told  him  to  hurry  down,  but  the  time  has  come 
when  you've  just  got  to  assert  yourself  willy-nilly. 
It's  you,  not  me,  as  is  her  eldest  nephew  and  kin, 
and  while  I'm  more'n  willing  to  do  the  work,  you've 
got  to  show  some  spunk.  Now  jist  you  git  into  a 
biled  shirt  and  your  good  coat  and  go  down  and 
stand  off  the  neighbours  that,  now  she  can't  stir,  '11  all 
bewrigglin'  and  slippin'  through  that  door  like  eels  in 
the  mill  sluice  when  the  gate  's  up.  I'll  soon  settle 
that  O'More." 

Joshua,  much  relieved,  obediently  went  into  the 
house,  while  Mrs.  Lane,  after  looking  into  the  kitchen 
to  be  sure  that  supper  was  progressing,  smoothed 
her  Sunday  dress  that  she  had  donned  that  morning 
for  the  funeral,  opened  the  windows  of  the  best  room 
to  impress  her  visitor  with  its  green  carpet  and 
cabinet  organ,  and  asked  John  O'More  to  come  in. 

"  Thanks,  Mrs.  Lane  I  take  it,  but  I  guess  I'll  stay 
out  here,  —  had  enough  of  shut-up  places  in  that 
train  to-day,  besides  some  ladies  object  to  smoke  in 
the  house." 

Before  she  could  speak  a  word  or  even  notice  the 


30  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

long  cigar  that  was  sticking  out  of  his  mouth  in  the 
direction  of  his  left  eye,  he  had  plunged  into  the 
subject  at  the  exact  point  where  it  had  been  dropped. 
"  Now  as  to  Bird,  Mrs.  Lane ;  your  husband  and  I 
have  tongue-threshed  things  out,  and  he  can  repeat 
the  same  to  you.  I  know  just  how  things  stand,  so 
nuff  said  about  what's  past.  I  travel  in  the  west  and 
Canada  for  a  steady  house,  and  I'm  away  a  good 
deal ;  now  Bird  can  be  company  for  my  wife  as  my 
kids  are  all  boys.  I'U  give  her  schooUn',  a  trade,  and 
a  shove  along  on  the  road  in  a  couple  of  years.  I 
wouldn't  do  less  for  any  kin  of  my  own,  and  I  kind 
o'  take  to  her." 

"  But  we  don't  want  you  to  take  her,  and  I  reckon 
she  don't  either,  for  — "  put  in  Mrs.  Lane,  almost 
bursting  with  suppressed  speech. 

"  Excuse  me,  one  moment  more,  madam,"  he  con- 
tinued, removing  his  cigar  and  speaking  rather  more 
slowly,  "  I  judge  that  you  object  to  her  going  to-mor- 
row ;  now  I  can't  stop  around  here,  and  it's  an 
expensive  trip.  Seein'  the  city  '11  be  a  change,  and 
she'll  soon  settle  down  all  right." 

"  But  we  don't  want  her  to  go  at  all,"  Mrs.  Lane 
almost  shrieked ;  **  we  want  her  to  live  with  us  !  " 

"As  what,  for  instance?"  queried  O'More,  grow- 
ing more  Irish  in  his  speech,  "  a  kind  of  a  charity 


HER   UNCLE   JOHN  31 

help,  or  had  you  intentions  of  adopting  her  by  the 
law  ?  If  so,  and  she  wishes,  I'll  stand  in  the  way  of 
nothing  but  a  change  of  her  name,  to  which  I'd 
object." 

Mrs.  Lane  was  struck  dumb.  She  had  no  idea  of 
making  a  servant  of  Bird,  but  on  the  other  hand 
she  knew  that  legal  adoption  would  mean  to  give 
Bird  a  like  share  with  her  own  boys,  and  as  what 
little  they  had,  or  might  expect,  came  from  her 
husband's  people,  this  she  could  not  promise  at 
once. 

"I  meant  —  to  treat  her  just  hke  my  little  girl 
that  died  —  but"  —  poor  Mrs.  Lane  got  more  and 
more  mixed  up  —  "I  haven't  asked  Joshua  about  the 
adoptin'  business  —  it's  so  lately  happened,  we'd  not 
got  that  far,  you  see." 

"  Yes,  mum,  I  see,"  said  the  fat  man,  drawing  his 
lips  together  shrewdly,  "  yourself  has  a  warm  heart, 
but  others,  yer  own  boys  likely,  may  give  it  a  chill 
some  day,  and  then  where's  Bird  ?  No,  mum,  the 
girl  '11  have  an  easier  berth  with  her  own,  I  fancy, 
and  not  have  to  bend  her  back  drawin'  and  fetchin' 
water,  either,  —  we've  it  set  quite  handy." 

This  was  said  with  withering  sarcasm  for,  unfor- 
tunately, at  that  moment.  Bird  could  be  seen  lugging 
in   a  heavy  water  bucket  from  the  well,  something 


32  AUNT   JIMMY'S  WILL 

she  had  been  warned  not  to  do,  and  yet  did  un- 
thinkingly, for  to-day  she  walked  as  in  a  dream. 

Mrs.  Lane  saw  that  in  reality  she  was  helpless, 
unless  she  appealed  to  Bird  herself,  and  to  rouse  the 
child's  sensitive  spirit  she  knew  would  be  not  only 
foolish  but  wicked,  so  for  once  Lauretta  Ann  Lane 
sat  silent  and  with  bowed  head,  only  saying  with  a 
choking  voice,  "  I  will  tell  her  after  —  supper  —  and 
you'll  let  —  us  write  —  to  her,  I  suppose,  and  have 
her  —  back  to  visit  if  she  gets  piney  for  Lammy,  — 
they've  been  like  twin  brother  and  sister  ever  since 
Janey  died." 

"  I  will  that,  ma'am,  and  I'll  say  more ;  if  within 
the  year  she  don't  content  herself  and  settle  down 
and  grieves  for  yer,  and  yer  see  it  clear  in  that  time 
to  adopt  her  fair  and  square,  and  guarantee  to  do 
by  her  as  I  will, — you'll  get  the  chance." 

O'More  stretched  his  legs,  stiff  with  sitting,  and 
jerked  his  half-burned  cigar  into  the  bushes,  while 
at  the  same  moment  Oliver  and  Nellis,  Lammy's 
big  brothers  who  worked  in  Milltown,  rode  up  on 
their  wheels  and  the  bell  rang  for  supper. 

No  one  but  Bird  ever  knew  what  Mrs.  Lane  said 
to  her  that  night,  during  the  sad  hours  that  she  held 
the   child   in  her   arms   in   the   great  rocking-chair 


HER   UNCLE   JOHN  33 

that  had  soothed  to  sleep  three  generations  of  Lane 
babies.  Perhaps  it  soothed  poor  Bird,  too,  only  she 
did  not  know  it  then;  yet  she  fell  asleep,  after  a 
storm  of  crying,  with  her  arms  around  Twinkle,  the 
terrier,  as  soon  as  Mrs.  Lane  had  put  her  to  bed, 
promising  to  come  back  from  Aunt  Jimmy's  early 
in  the  morning  to  awaken  her,  for  her  uncle  was  to 
take  the  nine  o'clock  train  from  the  Centre. 

As  Mrs.  Lane  collected,  in  a  valise,  the  few 
clothes  that  made  up  Bird's  wardrobe,  she  felt 
broken-hearted  indeed,  but  she  could  not  but  realize 
that  if  the  little  girl  must  go,  the  quicker  the  better, 
and  who  knew  what  might  turn  up,  for  Mrs.  Lane 
was  always  hopeful.  But  Lammy,  poor  boy,  could 
not  see  one  bright  spot  in  the  darkness.  It  was  with 
difficulty  that  his  father  could  keep  the  child,  usually 
so  gentle,  from  flying  at  O'More;  he  stormed  and 
begged  and  finally,  completely  exhausted,  fled  to 
the  stuffy  attic  where  he  fell  asleep,  pillowed  by 
some  hard  ears  of  seed  com. 

Next  morning  when  Bird  awoke,  she  had  forgotten 
and  felt  much  better  for  her  long  sleep,  but  when 
she  sat  up  and  looked  at  the  strange  room,  it  all 
came  back.  One  thought  mingled  with  the  dread 
of  parting,  —  she  was  going  to  New  York ;  there  was 
where  the  wall-paper  man  lived  and  people  learned 


34  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

things.  Hope  was  strong  in  her  also,  and  never  did 
she  doubt  for  a  moment  but  what  she  could  win  her 
way  and  come  back  some  day  to  her  friends  if  she 
could  only  find  the  right  path. 

Downstairs  all  was  confusion.  Joshua  Lane  had 
come  from  Aunt  Jimmy's  to  take  O'More  over  to 
the  judge's  house  to  sign  some  papers.  A  man  had 
followed  him  up  to  say  Dr.  Jedd  felt  the  old  lady 
was  worse.  Mrs,  Lane  was  giving  Bird  a  thousand 
directions  and  warnings  that  she  couldn't  possibly 
remember,  and  in  the  middle  of  it  all  Lammy,  look- 
ing straight  before  him  and  dumb  as  an  owl,  his 
eyes  nearly  closed  from  last  night's  crying,  drove 
around  in  the  business  wagon  to  take  the  travellers 
to  the  station,  four  good  miles  away. 

"Here's  my  card,  so  you'll  know  where  I  hang 
out,"  said  John  O'More,  as  he  stepped  into  the 
wagon,  holding  out  a  bit  of  printed  pasteboard  to 
Joshua  Lane,  "and  if  you  need  anything  in  my 
line,  ril  let  you  in  on  the  square."  On  one  comer 
was  the  picture  of  a  horse's  head,  on  the  other  a 
wagon,  and  the  letters  read,  "John  O'More  with 
Brush  &  Burr,  Dealers  in  Horses,  Vehicles  of  all 
Kinds,  Harness  &  Stable  Fixings."  Then  they 
drove  away.  Bird  keeping  her  eyes  fixed  on  Twinkle 
who  Lammy  had  settled  in  the  straw  at  their  feet. 


HER   UNCLE  JOHN  35 

"To  think  she  was  going  and  I  was  so  put 
about  I  never  asked  the  address,"  sighed  Mrs. 
Lane,  adjusting  her  glasses  and  looking  at  the 
card.  "For  goodness  sakes,  Joshua,  do  you  sup- 
pose he's  a  horse-jockey  ?  I  sort  of  hoped  he  might 
be  in  groceries,  or  coal  or  lumber,  —  something  solid 
and  respectable.     What  would  poor  Terry  say?" 

"I  really  don't  know,  Lauretta  Ann,"  sighed  Joshua, 
whose  slow  nature  was  showing  the  wear,  tear,  and 
hurry  of  the  last  few  days ;  "  but  he's  Terry's  brother, 
not  ourn.  It  takes  all  kinds  of  fellers  to  make  up  a 
world,  and  I  hev  met  honest  horse-jockeys,  and  then 
again  I  haven't.  I  wished  I'd  thought  to  ask  him 
the  bottom  price  for  a  new  chaise ;  ourn  is  so  weak 
every  time  you  cross  the  ford  I'm  afeared  you'll  spill 
through  the  bottom  into  the  water,"  and  Joshua 
turned  on  his  heel  and  went  in  to  a  belated  break- 
fast, while  his  wife  jerked  remarks  at  the  chickens 
she  made  haste  to  feed,  about  the  heartlessness  of 
all  men,  which  she  didn't  in  the  least  mean. 
•  ••••« 

They  had  ten  minutes  or  so  to  wait  for  the  train 
when  they  reached  the  Centre,  and,  after  taking 
her  valise  to  be  checked  and  buying  the  ticket, 
O'More  returned  to  the  wagon  for  Bird.  For  the 
first  time  she  remembered  that  she  had  not   asked 


36  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

about  Twinkle  and  perhaps  he  might  need  a  ticket 
Making  a  brave  effort  to  get  out  the  name  that 
choked  her,  yet  too  considerate  to  use  the  plain 
Mr.,  she  said :  "  Uncle  John,  —  you  won't  mind  if  I 
take  Twinkle  with  me,  will  you?  He's  very  clean 
and  clever ;  I  love  him  dearly  and  he  was  so  good 
to  Terry  when  he  was  sick." 

O'More  was  the  bustling  city  man  now,  and 
whatever  sentiment  had  swayed  him  the  night 
before  was  slept  away.  He  gave  a  glance  at  the 
dog  and  shook  his  head  in  the  negative. 

"That's  a  no  account  little  yaller  cur.  If  your 
aunt  will  let  you  keep  a  pup,  there's  always  a 
litter  around  the  stable  you  can  pick  from,  though 
they're  more'n  likely  to  fall  off  the  fire-escape." 

The  tears  came  to  Bird's  eyes,  but  she  blinked 
them  back ;  but  not  before  Lammy  saw  them. 
"  I'll  keep  Twinkle  all  safe  for  you  —  till  —  you 
come  a-visiting,"  he  said  in  a  shaky  voice,  reading 
her  wish. 

Then  the  train  came  around  the  curve  and 
stopped  at  the  big  tank  to  drink. 

"Come  along,"  called  O'More. 

"Oh,  I've  forgotten  my  paint-box  and  bundle!" 
said  Bird,  running  back  to  get  the  precious  port- 
folio that  had  been  wrapped  in  the  horse   blanket. 


HER   UNCLE  JOHN  37 

"Your  what?"  said  O'More,  "paint-box!  Just 
you  leave  that  nonsense  to  your  chum  along  with 
the  dog.  You've  had  enough  of  paints  and  paint- 
ing for  your  vittles ;  I'm  going  to  see  you  stick  to 
bread  and  meat,"  and,  waving  his  hand  good-by  to 
Lammy,  he  flung  him  a  silver  dollar,  that  missing 
the  wagon  rolled  in  the  dirt. 

For  a  moment  the  sickening  disappointment 
tempted  Bird  to  turn  and  run  down  the  track, 
anywhere  so  long  as  she  got  away;  then  her  pride 
came  to  her  aid,  and,  stretching  out  her  hands  to 
her  playmate,  she  cried,  "  Keep  them  safe  for  me, 
oh,  Lammy,  please  do !  " 

"You  bet  I  will,  don't  you  fret!"  he  called  back. 

Then  she  followed  her  uncle  quietly  to  the  cars, 
and  her  last  glimpse,  as  the  train  entered  the  cut, 
was  of  Lammy,  seated  in  the  old  wagon  with 
Twinkle  at  his  side,  the  box  and  the  portfolio 
clasped  in  his  arms,  and  a  brave  smile  on  his 
face. 


Ill 

AUNT  JIMMY 

For  a  few  minutes  Lammy  sat  looking  after  the 
vanishing  train.  Then  he  carefully  wrapped  the 
paint-box  and  portfolio  in  the  blanket  again,  and, 
patting  Twinkle,  who  was  quivering  with  excite- 
ment and  looking  into  his  face  with  a  pitiful, 
pleading  glance,  he  put  the  dog  down  in  the  straw 
again,  saying,  "We  can't  help  it,  old  fellow;  we've 
just  got  to  stand  it  until  we  can  iix  up  some  way 
to  get  her  back." 

As  he  turned  the  wagon  about,  with  much 
backing  and  rasping  of  cramped  wheels,  the  bright 
silver  dollar  that  was  lying  in  the  dirt  caught  his 
eye.  It  seemed  like  a  slap  in  the  face  when 
O'More  threw  it,  though  in  his  rough  way  he 
meant  well  enough,  and  Lammy's  first  impulse 
was  to  drive  home  and  leave  it  where  it  had 
fallen. 

Still,  after  all,  it  was  money,  and  to  earn  money 
vaguely   seemed   to   him    the   only   way  by   which 

38 


AUNT  JIMMY  39 

he  could  get  Bird  back  again,  for  though  Lammy 
had  a  comfortable  home,  enough  clothing,  and  plenty 
to  eat,  whole  dollars  were  as  rare  in  his  pockets 
as  white  robins  in  the  orchard. 

So  he  picked  up  the  shining  bit  of  silver,  wiped 
it  carefully  on  his  sleeve,  and,  wrapping  it  in  a 
scrap  of  paper,  opened  the  precious  paint-box, 
and  tucked  the  coin  into  one  of  the  small  com- 
partments. It  never  occurred  to  him  to  spend  the 
money  for  any  of  the  little  things  a  boy  of  four- 
teen always  wants,  and  he  quite  forgot  that  his 
knife  had  only  half  of  one  blade  left.  The  money 
was  for  Bird,  and  from  that  moment  the  paint-box, 
which  was  to  spend  some  months  in  his  lower 
bureau  drawer  in  company  with  his  best  jacket 
and  two  prizes  won  at  school,  became  a  savings 
bank. 

Lammy  stopped  at  the  "  Centre "  druggist's  for 
some  medicine  for  Aunt  Jimmy,  and  while  he  was 
waiting  for  the  mixture,  he  had  to  undergo  a  running 
fire  of  questions  concerning  his  aunt's  "  spell "  from 
the  people  who  came  in  from  all  sections  for  their 
mail,  as  this  store  was  also  the  post-office  and  there 
was  as  yet  no  rural  free-delivery  system  to  deprive 
the  community  of  its  daily  trade  in  news. 

Now  Aunt  Jimmy,  otherwise  Jemima  Lane,  occu- 


40  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

pied  an  unusual  position  in  the  neighbourhood  and  was 
a  personage  of  more  than  common  importance.  In 
the  first  place  she  was  a  miser,  which  is  always  inter- 
esting, as  a  miser  is  thought  to  be  a  sort  of  magician 
whose  money  is  supposed  to  lie  hidden  in  the  chim- 
ney and  yet  increase  as  by  double  cube  root ;  then 
she  owned  ten  acres  of  the  best  land  for  small  fruits 
—  strawberries,  raspberries,  currants,  and  peaches  — 
in  the  state.  The  ground  was  on  the  southern  slope 
of  Laurel  Ridge,  and  though  it  was  shielded  in  such  a 
way  that  the  March  sun  did  not  tempt  the  peach 
blossoms  out  before  their  time,  yet  Aunt  Jimmy's 
strawberries  were  always  in  the  Northboro  market  a 
full  week  ahead  of  the  other  native  fruit. 

Of  course  there  was  nothing  particularly  strange  in 
this  interest,  as  many  people  coveted  the  land.  The 
odd  part  that  concerned  the  gossips  was  that  Aunt 
Jimmy  had  three  able-bodied  nephews,  of  which 
Joshua  Lane  was  eldest,  all  farmers  struggling  along 
on  poorish  land,  while  she,  though  seventy-five  years 
old,  insisted  upon  running  her  fruit  farm  and  house 
entirely  alone,  hiring  Poles  or  Hungarians,  who  could 
speak  no  English,  to  till  and  gather  the  crops,  instead 
of  going  shares  with  her  own  kin.  In  fact,  until  a 
few  years  back,  no  one,  man,  woman,  or  child,  except 
little  Janey  Lane,  had  ever  got  beyond  the  kitchen 


AUNT   JIMxMY  41 

door.  Then  when  she  died,  Aunt  Jimmy  had  opened 
her  house  and  heart  to  Joshua  Lane's  wife,  and  ever 
since,  that  dear,  motherly  soul  had  done  all  that  she. 
could  for  the  queer,  lonely  old  woman,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  the  gossips  said  she  did  it  from  selfish 
motives. 

Joshua  Lane  was  very  sensitive  about  this  talk  and 
would  have  held  aloof  like  his  two  brothers,  who  lived 
beyond  the  Centre,  one  of  whom  had  a  sick  wife  and 
was  too  lazy  to  more  than  scratch  half  rations  from 
his  land,  while  the  other  had  once  given  the  old  lady 
some  unwise  advice  about  pruning  peach  trees,  and 
had  been  forbidden  inside  the  gate  under  pain  of 
being  cut  off  with  a  "  china  button,"  Aunt  Jimmy's 
pet  simile  for  nothing. 

Mrs.  Joshua,  however,  was  gossip  proof,  and,  toss- 
ing her  head,  had  publicly  declared,  "  I'm  a-going  to 
keep  the  old  lady  from  freezin*,  bumin',  or  starvin' 
herself  to  death  jest  so  far  's  I'm  able,  accordin'  to 
scripture  and  the  feelings  that's  in  me,  and  if  that's 
*  undue  influence,'  so  be  it !  I  shan't  discuss  the  sub- 
ject with  anybody  but  the  Lord,"  and  she  never  did. 

Many  a  meal  of  hot  cooked  food  she  took  to  the 
old  woman  to  replace  the  crackers  and  cheese  of  her 
own  providing.  It  was  not  that  Aunt  Jimmy  meant 
to  be  mean,  but  she  had  lived  so  long  alone  that  she 


42  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

had  gotten  out  of  the  habits  of  human  beings.  She 
certainly  looked  like  a  lunatic  when  she  went  about 
the  place  superintending  her  men,  clad  in  a  short 
skirt,  a  straw  sunbonnet,  and  rubber  boots,  merely 
adding  in  the  winter  a  man's  army  overcoat  and  cape 
that  she  had  picked  up  cheap ;  but  the  lawyer  who 
had  come  down  from  Northboro  a  year  before  to 
make  her  will  said  he  had  never  met  a  clearer  mind 
outside  of  the  profession,  for  she  had  Dr.  Jedd  testify 
that  she  was  of  sound  mind,  and  a  second  physi- 
cian from  Northboro  swear  that  Dr.  Jedd's  wits 
were  also  in  good  order. 

Shortly  after  this  she  had  given  it  out  quietly  that, 
though  Joshua  Lane  was  the  only  one  of  her  kin  that 
was  worth  a  box  of  matches,  yet  they  would  share 
and  share  alike,  as  she  didn't  believe  in  stirring  up 
strife  among  brothers  by  showing  favour. 

Then  everybody  expected  Mrs.  Lane  would  lessen 
her  attentions,  but  as  often  happens  everybody  was 
mistaken. 

Of  course  the  good  woman  could  not  help  thinking 
once  in  a  while  what  a  iine  thing  it  would  be  if  some 
day  her  elder  boys  could  work  the  fruit  farm  (Lammy 
she  never  thought  of  as  working  at  anything)  instead 
of  delving  in  a  shop  at  Milltown,  but  she  put  the  idea 
quickly  from  her.     However,  it  would  keep  coming 


AUNT  JIMMY  43 

back  all  that  night  after  Terence  O'More's  funeral 
when  she  watched  with  the  old  lady,  while  poor  Bird 
slept  her  grief-spent  sleep  before  her  journey. 

If  the  fruit  farm  could  ever  be  hers,  she  would 
adopt  Bird  without  hesitation,  for  the  little  lady-child 
had  crept  into  the  empty  spot  that  Janey  had  left  in 
her  big  mother  heart  and  filled  it  in  a  way  that  greatly 
astonished  her. 

«  «  4(  «  «  « 

Lammy  finally  secured  the  medicine  and  jogged 
homeward,  thinking,  all  the  time  thinking  about  Bird. 
He  knew  that  people  said  he  was  stupid,  and  yet  he 
also  felt  that  he  could  learn  as  well  as  any  one  if  they 
would  only  let  him  pick  his  own  way  a  little.  His 
father  wanted  him  to  be  a  carpenter,  his  mother 
thought  that  too  rough,  and  that  he  was  still  a  baby 
and  some  day  perhaps  he  might  be  a  clerk. 

But  Lammy  himself,  as  he  looked  into  the  future, 
saw  only  the  whirling  wheels  of  the  machinery  at 
Milltown,  or  the  wonders  of  the  locomotive  works 
that  he  had  once  visited  at  Northboro.  That  was 
why  he  was  always  day-dreaming  and  looking  in  the 
air.  Of  course  it  was  very  stupid  and  .dumb  of  him 
not  to  tell  his  parents,  but  Bird's  was  the  only  ear 
that  had  ever  heard  his  thoughts. 

All  that  day  he  stayed  about  the  place  at  home, 


44  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

keeping  the  fire  in  and  doing  the  chores,  for  his 
mother's  time  was  divided  between  her  aunt's  and 
straightening  things  at  Bird's  old  home,  and  his 
father  was  up  in  the  back  lots  planting  corn. 
Toward  night,  as  he  was  sitting  on  the  steps  having 
brought  back  Twinkle  who  had  run  to  his  old  home 
in  search  of  his  little  mistress,  Mrs.  Lane  bustled  in, 
mystery  and  importance  written  on  her  face.  Spying 
Lammy,  she  beckoned  him  to  follow  her  into  the 
kitchen,  then,  carefully  closing  the  doors,  putting 
Twinkle  in  the  closet  and  the  cat  out  of  the  window, 
as  if  they  could  carry  tales,  she  unfastened  her  bon- 
net and  collar  and  settled  herself  in  the  rocking- 
chair. 

"Samuel  Lane,"  she  began  solemnly,  shaking  her 
forefinger  and  making  the  boy  quake  at  the  unused 
title,  while  his  eyes  opened  wide  in  wonder,  **  No,  'tain't 
that ;  Aunt  Jimmy's  much  more  comfortable,  and  I 
suspect  she's  going  to  pick  up  again  after  scaring  us 
well,  or  I  wouldn't  be  home,  but  she  said  private 
words  to  me  this  afternoon  that  if  I  do  keep  quite 
to  myself,  I'll  burst,  I  know,  and  maybe  get  a  head- 
ache spell  that'll  lay  me  by  a  day  and  upset  every- 
thing. Now,  Samuel,  I've  found  as  far  as  givin* 
messages  you're  told  to  carry,  you're  as  good  as  no- 
body, so  I  reckon  you'll  be  tight  sealed  on  something 


AUNT   JIMMY  45 

that  you're  bid  to  keep  close  and  forget  maybe  for 
some  years." 

"  Is  it  about  Bird  ? "  asked  Lammy,  suddenly  jump- 
ing up  and  fixing  his  big,  gray  eyes  on  his  mother's 
face  with  a  gaze  that  made  her  nervous,  for  she  well 
knew  that  there  was  something  in  this  pet  son  of  hers 
that  was  a  little  beyond  her  comprehension. 

"  No,  not  about  Bird,  —  that  is,  not  straight,  though 
another  way  it  may  have  a  lot  to  do  with  her ;  it  all 
depends.     Listen,  Samuel! 

"  This  afternoon  Aunt  Jimmy  waked  up,  and,  seeing 
me  sitting  by  the  window  croshayin',  —  true  I  was 
making  a  bungle  of  the  tidy,  not  feelin'  like  workin' 
(but  she  hates,  same  's  I  do,  for  watchers  to  set  idle 
looking  ready  to  jump  at  a  body  Uke  a  cat  does  at  a 
mouse  hole), — she  says,  says  she,  her  voice  comin'  back 
steady,  *  Set  nearer,  Lauretta  Ann  Lane,  I'm  goin'  to 
tell  you  somethin'  no  one  else  need  ever  know,' 

"  I  drew  up  all  of  a  flutter,  of  course.  '  You're  a 
good  woman,  Lauretta  Ann,'  says  she,  '  and  you've 
never  poked  and  pried,  or  shown  desires  for  what's 
another's,  an'  you've  worked  hard  to  keep  me  livin', 
which  I've  done  to  my  satisfaction  beyond  my 
expectations.' 

"  I  burst  out  cryin',  I  couldn't  help  it ;  for  I  never 
thought   she  set  any  store  by  me,  and  I  felt  guilty 


46  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

about  wishes  I'd  had  last  night  and  had  fed  with 
thoughts  inwardly. 

"  *  Hush  up,  now,  and  don't  spoil  all  by  pretendin',' 
she  ran  on ;  'I  know  you'd  like  to  have  my  farm, 
though  not  a  day  before  I'm  done  with  it.  /'//  credit 
you  that.  It's  natural  and  proper  and  I'm  glad  to 
have  interest  took  in  it,  Hkewise  I've  said  I'd  share 
and  share  alike  between  my  nephews,  which  I  intend ; 
but  listen,  Lauretta  Ann,  for  there's  ways  of  circum- 
ventin'  that  suits  me,  Fve  left  you  the  farm  for  your 
own  ;  moreover,  I've  fixed  it  so  there'll  be  no  talk  and 
no  one'U  know  it  but  you.  You  think  I'm  crazy,  I 
guess,  and  that  you  couldn't  get  the  farm  unbeknown, 
nohow.     Just  wait  and  see ! ' 

"  Then  she  asked  me  to  draw  her  a  cup  of  tea,  and 
when  I  went  to  fetch  that  battered  old  pewter  tea-pot 
she's  used  I  reckon  these  fifty  years,  'twasn't  in  its 
place,  but  on  her  mantel-shelf,  and  when  I  reached 
up  to  take  it  down  she  said,  *  Leave  that  be  and  take 
the  chiney  one ;  its  work's  over  for  me  and  we're  both 
takin'  a  rest ; '  then  she  dozed  off  after  the  very  first 
sup." 

"  Mother,"  said  Lammy,  who  was  now  leaning  on 
her  knees  with  his  hands  behind  her  head  and  draw- 
ing it  close,  while  his  eyes  glowed  like  coals,  "if 
—  if  you  ever  get  the  farm  —  will  — you  —  " 


AUNT  JIMMY  47 

"  Bring  Bird  back  ?  "  she  finished  for  him,  hugging 
him  close.  "  Yes,  I  will,  and  you  shall  both  go  to 
school  to  Northboro,  too ;  but  mind  you,  Samuel,  no 
crowdin'  Aunt  Jimmy,  and  it  may  be  years  yet. 

"  Now  bustle  round  and  help  me  cook  up  some- 
thing, for  I  must  go  back  to  Aunt  Jimmy's  before 
seven,  as  Mis'  Jedge  o'  Probate  Ricker  is  the  only  one 
I'll  trust  to  spell  me,  for  Dinah  Lucky  's  mush  in  a 
bowl  when  the  village  folks  smooth  her  down  with 
their  palarver." 

So  Lammy  flew  about,  sifting  flour,  skimming  milk, 
or  ratthng  cups  and  saucers,  and  it  was  not  quite 
dark,  supper  over,  and  every  dish  washed,  when  he 
went  back  to  the  porch  steps  and  whispered  the  pre- 
cious hope  to  Twinkle,  who  raised  one  ear  and  his  lip 
together  as  much  as  if  he  understood  and  cautioned 
silence.  Then  the  boy  began  day-dreaming  anew, 
but  this  time  his  mind,  instead  of  following  flying 
wheels,  was  busy  weeding  strawberry  plants  and  care- 
fully picking  raspberries,  so  as  not  to  crush  them,  while 
Bird  stood  by  and  watched.  "  And,"  he  startled  him- 
self by  saying  aloud,  "the  first  thing  I'll  do  '11  be  to 
divide  off  a  root  of  those  red  pineys  and  plant  it  up 
on  the  hill,  so  Bird  '11  find  it  next  spring  all  in  blow." 

A  few  days  later  when  Dr.  Jedd  and  all  the  neigh- 


48  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

hours  were  convinced  that  Aunt  Jimmy  would  be  out 
in  the  garden  again  by  raspberry  time,  with  good 
chance  of  another  ten  years,  and  Mrs.  Lane  had 
made  indoors  more  comfortable  than  it  had  been  for 
years  by  a  thorough  cleaning  and  renovating,  the 
strange  old  lady  again  upset  all  their  calculations  and 
died.  Then  in  due  time  the  lawyer  from  North- 
boro  sent  letters  to  the  three  nephews  and  their  fami- 
lies, to  Dr.  Jedd,  to  the  minister  of  the  First 
Congregational  Church,  and  to  the  superintendent  of 
the  new  School  of  Industrial  Art  of  Northboro,  to 
meet  on  a  certain  Friday  afternoon  at  Aunt  Jimmy's 
house  to  hear  the  will  read. 

Once  more  was  the  entire  community  involved 
in  a  guessing  match.  The  summoning  of  the  kin 
was  a  matter  of  course,  and  usually  took  place  im- 
mediately, so  that  the  lawyer  was  evidently  carry- 
ing out  special  directions  in  delaying  the  matter  for 
more  than  a  week,  but  as  to  what  the  doctor,  the 
minister,  and  the  teacher  from  Northboro  could 
possibly  have  to  do  in  the  matter  was  a  mystery 
that  not  even  the  fertile  brain  of  Mrs.  Slocum  could 
settle,  either  for  good  nor  evil. 

It  couldn't  be  that  Aunt  Jimmy  had  left  these 
three  outside  men  anything,  for  it  was  known  that 
she   only   employed  Dr.  Jedd  because  she  couldn't 


AUNT   JIMMY  49 

help  it,  that  she  hadn't  been  to  church  for  five  years 
because  the  minister  had  preached  a  sermon  against 
avarice  and  the  vanity  of  hoarding  money,  and  as 
to  the  Northboro  teacher  it  was  positively  certain  that 
she  had  never  even  seen  him,  for  he  was  a  stranger 
in  these  parts,  having  recently  been  sent  from  New 
York,  to  take  charge  of  the  school,  by  a  wealthy 
man  who  had  been  influential  in  founding  it  and 
whose  country  place  was  on  the  farther  edge  of  the 
town. 

Mrs.  Lane  was  as  much  in  the  dark  as  any  one  and 
did  not  hesitate  to  say  so,  while  excitement  ran  so 
high  that  on  this  particular  Friday  afternoon  the 
women  sat  in  their  fore-room  windows  overlooking 
the  village  street  with  the  expectant  air  of  waiting 
for  a  passing  procession. 

Mrs.  Dr.  Jedd,  Mrs.  Judge  of  Probate  Ricker,  and 
the  minister's  wife  were  privileged  to  attend  the 
reading  by  courtesy  for  reason  of  being  their 
husband's  wives,  and  cakes  had  been  baked  and 
several  plans  made  to  waylay  them  separately  on 
their  divers  route§  home  to  drink  a  cup  of  tea,  that 
every  detail  might  be  gleaned  for  comparing  of  notes 
afterward. 

"  We  shall  soon  see  whether  Lauretta  Ann  Lane's 
cake   is  dough   or  fruit  loaf,"  sniffed  Mrs.  Slocum, 


50  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

angrily,  drawing  in  her  head  suddenly  from  the  third 
fruitless  inspection  of  the  road  that  she  had  made  in 
fifteen  minutes  and  giving  it  a  smart  bump  against 
the  sash  as  she  did  so.  "  Either  the  folks  is  late,  or 
they're  gone  around  the  back  road,  and  if  so,  why  ? 
I'd  just  like  you  to  tell  me,"  she  snapped  at  Hope 
Snippin,  the  meek  little  village  dressmaker  who, 
drawn  over  as  if  she  had  a  perpetual  stitch  in  her 
side,  was  remaking  a  skirt  for  the  lady  of  the 
house  and  felt  very  much  discouraged,  as  it  had 
been  turned  once  before,  at  the  possibility  of  making 
it  look  startlingly  new. 

"  Maybe  they've  stopped  down  to  the  Lane's  and 
have  walked  around  the  meadow  path,"  ventured 
Hope  Snippin.  "  The  other  day  when  I  was  fixin' 
up  Mis'  Lane's  black  gown,  changing  the  buttons 
and  such  like  to  turn  it  from  just  Sunday  best  to 
mourning,  I  heard  her  tell  Mis'  Jedd  that,  as  there 
was  no  convenience  for  gettin'  up  a  proper  meal 
down  to  Aunt  Jimmy's,  seein'  as  nothing  must  be 
touched  until  the  will  was  read,  she'd  asked  all  the 
folks  concerned  to  dinner  —  a  roast-beef  dinner 
with  custards  —  at  her  house  so's  they  could  be 
comfortable  and  stable  their  teams,  and  then  walk 
right  around  short  cut  to  the  other  house  after.  You 
see  the  two  farms  meets  the  road  separate,  like  the 


AUNT  JIMMY  51 

two  heels  of  a  horseshoe,  and  then  join  by  going  back 
of  the  doctor's  hill  woods.  My  father  was  sayin' 
last  night  if  those  two  farms  and  the  wood  lot  went 
together,  they'd  be  something  worth  while,"  and  Miss 
Snippin  smiled  pleasantly  as  if  she  thought  she  had 
propitiated  Mrs.  Slocum  by  her  news. 

"  Then  you  knew  all  the  while  they  wouldn't  come 
by  here  and  never  told  me,  though  seein'  me  slavin' 
over  that  cake,"  snapped  Mrs.  Slocum.  "I  wish 
you'd  mind  your  work  closer ;  you're  makin'  that 
front  breadth  up  stain  out." 

"  But  it  runs  clean  through,"  pleaded  the  dress- 
maker, miserably. 

"  Depend  upon  it,"  Mrs.  Slocum  muttered  to 
herself,  not  heeding  the  protest,  **  she's  made  sure  of 
that  farm,  or  she  wouldn't  risk  the  cost  of  a  roast 
dinner  for  a  dozen  folks  if  she  wasn't." 

«  «  4(  «  «  « 

Meanwhile  this  dinner  had  been  eaten  and  the 
party,  headed  by  the  lawyer  and  the  teacher,  had 
gone  through  the  sweet  June  fields  to  Aunt  Jimmy's 
house  and  seated  themselves  upon  the  stiff-backed, 
fore-room  chairs  that  were  ranged  in  a  long  row,  as 
if  the  company  expected  to  play  "  Go  to  Jerusalem." 

Outside,  the  bees  were  humming  in  the  syringa 
bushes  while   the  cat-birds  and  robins,  unmolested. 


52  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

were  holding  a  festival  in  the  great  strawberry  bed, 
for  to-day  there  was  no  one  to  see  that  the  birds 
"  kept  moving  "  after  the  usual  custom,  as  the  hired 
man  on  returning  from  taking  eggs  to  market  had 
gone  to  sleep  in  the  hay  barn,  knowing  that  the  stern 
voice  of  the  old  lady  in  rubber  boots  and  sunbonnet 
would  not  disturb  his  dreams. 

"  Hem,"  the  lawyer  cleared  his  throat  and  read  the 
usual  preliminaries  about  "last  will  and  testament, 
sound  mind,"  etc.,  "  paying  of  just  debts,"  etc.,  in  a 
clear  but  rapid  voice  that  grew  gradually  solemn  and 
important,  until,  as  the  pith  of  the  matter  was 
reached,  every  word  was  separated  from  its  neigh- 
bour, and  the  buzzing  of  a  fly  on  the  window-pane 
seemed  an  unbearable  noise. 

"  I  give  and  bequeath  to  Amelia,  the  wife  of 
William  Jedd,  doctor  of  medicine  in  this  town,  the 
sum  of  two  thousand  dollars,  because  I  think  she 
may  need  it  owing  to  her  husband's  slack  way  of 
collecting  bills." 

Mrs.  Jedd,  who  had  for  a  moment  looked  radiant, 
quickly  cast  down  her  eyes  after  a  frightened  glance 
at  her  husband  who  was,  with  apparent  difficulty, 
refraining  from  laughter  as  he  looked  crosswise  at 
the  minister. 


AUNT  JIMMY  53 

*'  I  give  and  bequeath  to  Sarah  Ann,  wife  of  Joel 
Stevens,  minister  of  the  First  Congregational  Church, 
a  like  sum  of  two  thousand  dollars  because  she  is 
sure  to  need  it,  this  being  twice  the  amount  that  he 
once  desired  me  to  give  to  foreign  missions.  If  he. 
still  holds  to  his  views  of  avarice  and  hoarding, 
he  will  doubtless  be  able  to  persuade  her  to  share 
his  ideas  as  to  its  use." 

It  was  the  minister's  turn  now  to  look  red  and 
confused,  while  his  wife's  face  expressed  her  views 
on  the  subject  beyond  a  doubt. 

"  I  give  and  bequeath  to  the  Trust  Fund  of  the 
School  of  Industrial  Art  in  Northboro  the  sum  of 
$10,000,  the  income  therefrom  to  be  applied  to  the 
board  and  teaching  of  two  girls  each  year  who  can- 
not afford  to  pay,  for  the  reason  that  I  think  a  girl 
is  usually  worth  two  boys  if  she  has  a  chance,  and  I 
don't  like  to  see  our  best  girls  running  to  the  big 
cities  for  schooling. 

"  I  direct  that  my  fruit  farm  of  ten  acres,  more 
or  less,  with  the  adjoining  one  hundred  acres  of 
meadow  and  woodlands,  and  all  buildings  and  fix- 
tures, other  than  household  furniture,  appertaining 
thereto,  shall  be  sold  at  public  auction  within  six 
months  of  my  death,  and  that  the  cash  proceeds  be 
divided  between  my  three  nephews,  share  and  share 


54  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

alike,  I  holding  the  hope  that  one  of  them  will  be 
the  purchaser.  I  also  direct  that  the  pieces  of 
household  furniture  mentioned  in  the  enclosed 
memorandum  shall  be  divided  between  the  wives 
of  my  three  nephews  by  the  drawing  of  lots,  and  I 
charge  that  all  other  furnishings  not  mentioned  in  this 
paper,  being  of  no  value  except  to  myself,  shall  be 
destroyed  either  by  burning  or  burying  in  the 
swamp  bog-hole  according  to  their  character,  as  I 
don't  wish  them  scattered  about  for  the  curiosity 
of  the  idle,  of  which  this  town  has  its  full  share. 

"  Making  one  exception  to  the  above,  I  give  to 
my  dear  niece  by  marriage,  Lauretta  Ann,  wife  of 
Joshua  Lane,  in  token  of  my  respect  for  her,  my 
old  pewter  tea-pot  that,  as  she  knows,  I  have 
treasured  as  having  laid  buried  in  the  garden 
through  the  War  of  Independence  and  had  in  daily 
use  for  years,  hoping  she  will  cherish  it  and  by  like 
daily  use  hold  me  in  constant  remembrance  by  the 
sight  of  it." 

At  this  juncture  no  one  dared  look  up,  for  all  felt 
the  cruelty  of  the  gift  after  Mrs.  Lane's  years  of 
service,  and  the  poor  woman  herself  merely  tight- 
ened her  grasp  upon  the  chair  arms,  but  she  could 
not  prevent  the  sickening  sense  of  disappointment 
that  crept  over  her. 


AUNT  JIMMY  55 

"  I  hereby  appoint  my  nephew,  Joshua  Lane,  as 
my  sole  executor,  directing  that  he  be  paid  the  sum 
of  $1000  from  my  estate  for  his  services,  desiring  him 
to  carry  on  the  fruit  business  for  the  current  year, 
the  profits  to  be  added  to  my  estate.  (Here  followed 
special  instructions.)  If  there  be  any  residue  after 
paying  to  the  before-named  legacies,  I  direct  that 
he  divide  it  equally  between  himself  and  his  two 
brothers,  and  I  hope  that  all  concerned  may  feel  the 
same  pleasure  in  hearing  this  testament  that  I  have 
had  in  making  it." 

As  the  lawyer  stopped  reading  there  was  a 
pause,  and  then  a  rush  of  voices,  congratulations 
and  condolences  mingled.  That  he  had  made  an 
error  in  summoning  Dr.  Jedd  and  the  minister 
instead  of  their  wives  was  plain. 

The  two  brothers,  who  cared  nothing  for  the 
fruit  farm  except  its  cash  price  and  had  beeji  too 
indolent  to  bother  about  the  matter  or  go  to  see 
their  aunt  except  in  fruit  time,  assumed  importance 
and  talked  about  wounded  pride  and  the  injustice 
of  having  but  one  executor.  The  school  superin- 
tendent, an  Englishman  of  fifty  or  so  who  had 
received  his  art  training  at  South  Kensington  and 
brought  it  to  market  in  America,  confused  by  his 
surroundings,    but    of    course    pleased    at   the   gift 


56  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

by  which  his  school  benefited,  made  haste  to  leave, 
feeling  that  he  was  intruding  in  a  gathering  where 
a  family  storm  was  brewing. 

"  Mebbe  there's  something  in  the  tea-pot,"  sug- 
gested the  minister's  wife,  hopefully,  "else  I  can't 
think  she  knew  her  own  mind." 

"There's  surely  something  in  it,"  echoed  Mrs. 
Dr.  Jedd. 

The  lawyer,  who  himself  had  thought  this  pos- 
sible, went  upstairs,  and  took  down  the  battered  bit 
of  pewter  from  the  best  bedroom  shelf,  where  it  had 
remained  since  the  day  Mrs.  Lane  had  placed  it 
there  at  Aunt  Jimmy's  request,  opened  it,  shook  it, 
and  held  it  toward  the  eager  group,  —  it  was  abso- 
lutely empty  ! 

Mrs.  Lane  stretched  out  her  hand  for  the  legacy, 
but  her  husband  grasped  her  arm  and  asserting 
himself  for  the  first  time  in  his  married  life,  said: 
"  Lauretta  Ann,  don't  you  tech  it ;  it'll  go  down 
in  the  swamp  hole  with  the  other  trash  for  all  of 
you.  I'll  not  have  you  a-harbourin'  a  viper.  I'll 
do  my  lawful  duty,  but,  by  crickey,  I'll  not  have 
you  put  upon  no  more." 

This  very  ambiguous  speech  so  impressed  the 
hearers  that  it  was  reported  that  "Joshua  Lane 
wasn't  tied   to    Lauretta's   apron-strings   and   could 


AUNT  JIMMY  57 

hold  his  own  equal  to  anybody,"  which  had  been 
seriously  doubted,  while  the  news  was  a  surprise 
and  disappointment  to  every  one  but  Mrs.  Slocum, 
who  said,  "  Dough !  I  told  you  so,"  —  and  actually 
cut  a  big  slice  of  cake  for  Hope  Snippin  to  take 
home  for  tea. 

As  for  Lammy  he  seemed  dazed  for  a  while, 
and  then  set  to  work  daily  with  his  father  on  the 
fruit  farm,  so  that  he  might  earn  the  tickets  to 
send  to  Bird  when  hot  weather  and  the  time  for 
her  visit  came.  His  mother  noticed  that  he  did 
not  gaze  about  as  much  as  usual,  and,  while  he 
was  picking  berries  for  market,  he  said  to  himself, 
"I'll  snake  a  root  of  those  red  pineys  for  Bird 
anyhow  before  the  auction,  'long  in  November,  and 
maybe  before  then  something  '11  turn  up." 


IV 

A  CAGED   BIRD 

When  the  high  banks  of  the  cut  shut  off  Lammy 
from  Bird's  sight,  she  followed  her  uncle  into  the 
car,  vainly  trying  to  blink  back  her  tears.  He, 
however,  did  not  notice  them ;  but,  putting  her  valise 
on  a  seat,  told  her  she  had  better  sit  next  to  the 
window  so  that  she  could  amuse  herself  by  looking 
out,  as  it  would  be  two  hours  before  they  changed 
cars  at  New  Haven,  and  then,  taking  another  seat 
for  himself,  pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes  and 
promptly  fell  asleep. 

At  first  the  poor  child  was  content  to  sit  quite 
still  and  rest,  trying  to  realize  who  and  where  she 
was.  The  changes  of  the  past  two  weeks  had  been 
so  sudden  that  she  did  not  yet  fully  realize  them. 
Beginning  with  the  day  when  her  father,  all  full 
of  hope,  had  been  soaked  by  the  rain  in  walking 
back  from  Northboro,  where  he  had  gone  to  buy 
materials  for  beginning  his  work  for  the  wall-paper 
man,  and  caught  the  deadly  cold,  until  now    when 

58 


A   CAGED   BIRD  59 

she  was  leaving  the  only  friends  she  had  ever 
known,  seemed  either  a  whole  lifetime  or  a  dream 
from  which  she  must  awake. 

But  as  the  train  flew  on  and  the  familiar  places 
one  by  one  were  lost  in  the  distance,  little  by  little 
the  bare  cold  truth  came  to  her.  Not  only  was  she 
going  to  a  strange  place  to  live  among  strangers, 
but  the  hope  that  had  comforted  her  the  previous 
night  had  been  swept  away  when  her  uncle  had 
refused  to  let  her  bring  her  paint-box,  and  she 
knew  by  the  contemptuous  way  he  spoke  that  he 
was  even  more  set  against  her  father's  work  than 
their  farming  neighbours  had  been. 

"  Never  mind,"  thought  the  brave,  lonely  little 
heart,  "  I  simply  must  learn  somehow,  and  per- 
haps my  aunt  and  cousins  may  be  different  and 
help  me  to  persuade  Uncle  John  to  let  me  go  on 
with  drawing  at  the  school  he  sends  me  to,  for 
I  heard  him  tell  Mrs.  Lane  that  I  should  go  to 
school."  Then  Bird  began  to  imagine  what  the 
aunt  and  cousins  would  be  like,  and  what  sort  of 
a  house  they  would  live  in.  She  thought  the  house 
would  be  brick  or  stone  like  some  in  Northboro, 
and  she  did  not  expect  that  there  would  be  a  very 
big  garden,  perhaps  only  at  the  back  with  a  little 
strip  at  the  sides  and  in  front,  but  then  that  would 


6o  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

hold  enough  flowers  for  her  to  draw  so  that  she  need 
not  forget  the  way  in  which  Terry  had  taught  her 
to  do  it  from  life,  and  even  if  she  had  no  paints  and 
only  bits  of  paper  and  a  pencil,  she  could  work  a 
little  out  of  the  way  up  in  her  room  so  as  not  to 
annoy  her  uncle  and  yet  not  quite  give  up.  That 
she  was  determined  she  would  never  do,  for  Bird 
had,  in  addition  to  a  talent  that  was  in  every  way 
greater  than  her  father's,  something  that  came  from 
her  mother's  family  and  that  he  had  wholly  lacked, 
—  perseverance,  a  thing  that  people  are  apt  to  call 
obstinacy  when  they  do  not  sympathize  with  its 
object. 

So  busy  was  she  with  castle-building  that  she 
was  quite  surprised  when  the  brakeman  called : 
"  New  Haven !  Last  stop.  Change  cars  for  New 
York  and  Boston.  Passengers  all  out!"  and  her 
uncle  jumped  up,  flushed  and  stupid  with  sleep 
and  bundled  her  out  of  the  train  into  the  station 
restaurant  "to  snatch  a  bite  of  dinner"  before 
they  went  on. 

Now  Bird,  being  a  perfectly  healthy  child,  even 
though  overwrought  and  tired,  was  hungry  and 
gladly  climbed  up  on  one  of  the  high  stools  that 
flanked  the  lunch  counter,  while  her  uncle  gathered 
a  sandwich,  two  enormous  doughnuts,  and  a  quarter 


A   CAGED   BIRD  6i 

of  a  mince  pie  on  one  plate  and  pushed  it  toward 
her  saying :  "  Tea  or  coffee  ?  You'd  better  fill  up 
snug,  for  we  won't  be  home  until  well  after  dinner- 
time," then  John  O'More  proceeded  to  cool  his 
own  coffee  by  pouring  it  from  cup  to  saucer  and 
back  again  with  much  noise  and  slopping. 

"  Please,  I'd  rather  have  milk,"  answered  Bird, 
rescuing  the  sandwich  from  under  the  pie  and 
making  a  great  effort  not  to  stare  at  her  uncle, 
who  had  begun  by  stuffing  half  a  doughnut  into 
his  mouth  and  pouring  the  larger  part  of  a  cup 
of  coffee  after  it  before  he  swallowed,  so  that  his 
cheeks  bulged,  his  eyes  seemed  about  to  pop  from 
their  sockets,  and  beads  of  sweat  stood  on  his 
forehead,  while  the  next  moment  he  was  shovelling 
up  great  mouthsful  of  baked  beans  and  ramming 
them  down  with  cucumber  pickles,  very  much 
as  she  had  seen  Lammy  charging  his  father's 
old  muzzle-loading  shot-gun  when  going  to  hunt 
woodchucks. 

Though  sometimes  the  food  at  home  had  not 
been  any  too  plentiful.  Bird's  parents  had  always 
been  particular  about  her  manners  at  table.  She 
had  had  their  example  before  her  and  was  naturally 
dainty  in  her  own  ways,  so  that  her  uncle's  gorging 
gave  her  another  shock,  and  unconsciously  she  be- 


62  AUNT   JIMMY'S  WILL 

gan  to  pick  at  her  food  like  a  veritable  feathered 
bird. 

"The  country  ain't  what  it's  cracked  up  to  be," 
remarked  O'More,  when  he  was  able  to  speak.  **  I 
thought  country  girls  was  always  fat  and  rosy  and 
ate  hearty.  Just  wait  until  you  get  to  New  York 
and  see  my  kids  stoke  in  the  vittles;  it'll  learn  you 
what  it  means  to  eat  right." 

"  Express  train  for  New  York,  stopping  at  Bridge- 
port and  Stamford  only,"  called  a  man  through  the 
open  door. 

"Come  along,"  shouted  O'More,  wedging  in  an- 
other doughnut,  throwing  the  pay  to  the  waiter 
and  seizing  a  handful  of  toothpicks  from  a  glass 
on  the  counter,  and  before  Bird  had  but  half 
finished  the  sandwich  and  milk,  she  found  herself 
on  the  train  again. 

The  second  part  of  the  journey  passed  more 
cheerfully,  for  all  along  at  the  east  side  of  the 
road  were  beautiful  gHmpses  of  the  Sound  and 
silvery  creeks  and  inlets  came  up  to  the  track  itself. 

Bird  had  never  before  seen  the  sea,  or  any  river 
greater  than  the  mill  stream,  and  she  exclaimed  in 
delight. 

"Like  the  looks  of  salt  water,  do  you.?  Then 
you're  going  to  an  A  i  place  to  see  it.     New  York's 


A  CAGED   BIRD  63 

an  island,  and  you  only  have  to  go  to  the  edge 
anywhere  to  see  water  all  round,  not  forsaken 
lookin'  empty  water  like  this  either,  but  full  of 
ships  and  boats  and  push.  Down  at  the  far  end 
of  the  town  is  Battery  Park,  smash  on  to  the 
water,  and  there's  sea  air  and  seats  in  it  and  music 
summer  nights,  along  with  a  building  full  of  live 
swimmin'  fishes  that  little  Billy's  crazed  over  goin'  to 
see.     Oh,  you'll  find  sport  in  the  city  for  sure." 

"Who  is  little  Billy  ? "  asked  Bird,  feeling  that  she 
was  called  upon  to  say  something,  and  now  realizing 
that  she  knew  nothing  about  the  cousins  she  was  to 
meet. 

"  Little  Billy  ?  Oh,  he's  the  youngest  of  the  four 
boys.  Tom,  he's  the  eldest,  and  a  wild  hawk;  he's 
got  a  rovin'  job,  and  he  seldom  turns  up  lest  he's  in 
trouble,  but  for  all  that  his  mother's  crazed  after  him. 
Jack,  he's  next,  seventeen,  and  fine  and  sleek  and 
smart  with  the  tongue,  and  keeps  the  clean  coat  of  a 
gentleman ;  he's  in  a  clerking  job,  but  he  goes  to 
night  school,  and  he'll  be  somebody.  Larry's  fifteen, 
and  he's  just  quit  school  and  got  a  place  helping  a 
trainer  on  the  race-track ;  he's  minded  to  make 
money  quick,  and  thinks  that's  the  road,  which  I 
don't.  Then  little  Billy,  —  he's  turning  six,  and  he's 
worth  more'n  the  whole  lot  together  to  me,  if  he  is 


64  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

only  a  four-year  size  and  hops  with  a  crutch.  Ah, 
but  he's  got  the  head  for  thinkin',  and  he's  every  way 
off  from  the  rest  of  us,  pale  and  yellow-haired,  while 
the  others  are  coloured  like  sloes  and  crows'  wings  in 
the  eyes  and  hair." 

As  O'More  spoke  his  whole  face  softened  and 
lightened  up,  and  it  was  plain  to  see  that  little  Billy 
filled  the  soft  spot  that  is  in  every  heart  if  people 
only  have  the  eyes  to  see  it. 

"Until  little  Billy  was  turned  three  he  was  as 
pretty  as  an  angel,"  he  continued,  "and  sturdy  as 
any  other  child.  Then  come  a  terrible  hot  summer, 
—  oh,  I  tell  you  it  was  fierce ;  you  couldn't  draw  a 
breath  in  the  rooms,  and  so  the  missis  she  fixed  a 
bed  for  Billy  out  on  the  fire-escape  and  used  to  take 
him  there  to  sleep." 

Bird  was  just  about  to  ask  what  sort  of  a  place  a 
fire-escape  was,  for  this  was  the  second  time  her 
uncl^  had  mentioned  it  that  day  Having  said  that  if 
she  had  a  dog,  it  would  likely  fall  from  it,  but  he 
talked  so  quickly  that  she  forgot  again. 

"  As  luck  had  it,  one  night  the  wind  come  up  cool, 
and,  the  woman  bein'  dead  tired,  never  woke  up  to 
notice  it,  and  in  the  morning  little  Billy  set  up  a  terri- 
ble cry,  for  when  he  tried  to  get  up  he  couldn't,  for 
the  wind  had  checked  the  sweat  and  stiffened  his  left 


A   CAGED   BIRD  65 

leg,  as  it  were.  Of  course  we  had  a  big  time  and 
had  in  full  a  dozen  doctors,  and  some  said  one  thing 
and  some  another,  but  they  all  give  it  the  one  name 
'the  infant  paralysis.' 

"  The  doctors  they  wanted  him  to  go  to  the  'ospital 
and  have  the  leg  shut  into  a  frame  and  all  that,  but  I 
said  'twas  a  shame  to  torment  him,  and  I'd  have  him 
let  be  till  he  could  say  for  himself. 

"  The  woman  takes  him  awful  hard,  though,  as  if 
he  was  a  reproach  to  her  for  not  wakin'  up,  which  is 
no  sense,  for  what  he's  to  be,  he's  —  that's  all,"  which 
shiftless  argument  Bird  afterward  found  was  her 
uncle's  answer  to  many  things  that  could  have  been 
bettered. 

"  I  hope  Billy  will  like  me,"  said  Bird,  half  to  her- 
self after  a  few  minutes'  silence ;  "  somehow  I  think 
I  like  him  already." 

"  If  you  do  that  and  act  well  by  him,  I  buy  you  a 
hat  with  the  longest  feather  on  Broadway  for  your 
Christmas,"  said  O'More,  grasping  her  slender 
fingers  and  almost  crushing  them  in  his  burst  of 
enthusiasm.  "  But  whist  a  minute,  girl,  for  we're 
most  home  now.  If  the  woman,  —  I  mean  my  nrissis, 
your  Aunt  Rosy,  —  is  offish  just  at  the  start,  don't  get 
down-hearted,  for  you  see  as  she  don't  expect  I'm 
bringing  you,  she  may  be  —  well  —  a  trifle   startled 


66  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

like.  She'll  soon  settle  down  and  take  what  be's  to 
be  straight  enough,"  and  with  this  rather  discourag- 
ing remark  the  train  crossed  the  Harlem  River  and 
entered  the  long  tunnel  that  is  apt  to  cast  a  gloom 
over  every  one's  first  entrance  to  New  York,  even 
when  they  are  bent  on  pleasure  and  not  sad  and 
lonely. 

"We're  in  now,"  said  O'More  in  a  few  minutes,  as 
the  echo  of  the  close  walls  ceased  and  the  train  slid 
across  a  maze  of  tracks  into  an  immense  building 
with  a  glass  roof  like  a  greenhouse. 

"Grand  Central  Station  —  all  out,"  called  a  brake- 
man,  and  Bird  found  herself  part  of  a  crowd  of  men, 
women,  children,  and  red-capped  porters  moving 
toward  a  paved  street,  full  of  carriages,  wagons, 
trucks,  electric  cars,  besides  many  sort  of  vehicles 
that  she  had  never  seen  before,  coming,  going,  dash- 
ing here  and  there  in  confusion,  while  on  every  side 
there  was  a  wall  of  houses,  and  below  the  earth  was 
upturned  and  trenched,  not  a  bit  of  grass  or  tree  to 
be  seen  anywhere,  and  the  sky,  oh,  so  far  away  and 
small.  Bird  almost  fell  as  she  stumbled  blindly 
along  toward  a  trolley  car  after  the  uncle,  for  what 
could  seem  more  unreal  to  this  little  wild  thrush  from 
the  country  lane,  with  song  in  her  throat,  and  love 
of  beauty  and  colour  born  in  her  heart,  than  Forty- 


A  CAGED    BIRD  67 

second  Street  in  the  middle  of  the  first  warm  summer 
afternoon  ? 

The  car  they  boarded  went  through  another  short 
tunnel,  and  on  every  side  could  be  heard  the  noise 
of  hammers  or  drilling  in  the  rock. 

"  Is  this  a  stone  quarry  ? "  asked  Bird,  innocently, 
not  understanding,  and  wondering  why  the  near-by 
passengers  smiled  as  her  uncle  replied  :  "  Lord  bless 
yer !  no ;  it's  the  subway,  a  road  below  ground  they're 
building  to  let  out  folks  from  where  they  work  to 
where  there's  room  to  live;  there's  such  push  here 
below  town  there's  little  room  for  sitting,  let  alone 
sleeping.  Oh,  but  it's  a  fine  city  is  New  York,  all  the 
same." 

Next  a  broad  avenue  with  a  jumble  of  old,  low 
shops  and  fine  new  buildings  side  by  side ;  still  Bird 
looked  anxiously  out  for  some  place  where  it  seemed 
possible  that  people  might  live  and  found  none. 

"  Here's  2 — th  Street  where  we  land,"  said  O'More, 
presently  looking  up,  and  when  the  car  had  stopped, 
Bird  found  herself  walking  along  a  sidewalk  between 
another  wall  of  buildings  without  gardens,  while  the 
heat  of  the  first  warm  day  rising  from  the  pavement 
made  her  dizzy,  and  she  asked,  "  Is  it  far  from  here 
to  where  you  Uve,  Uncle  John  ? " 


68  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

"  No,  right  close  by,  only  a  few  steps  farther. 
We're  facing  east  now  and  down  yonder  half  a  dozen 
blocks  is  the  river,  the  same  as  we  crossed  coming  in 
saving  a  turn  in  it. 

"Getting  tired,  ain't  yer.?  Well,  it's  been  a  long 
day  for  us,  and  I'm  mighty  glad  to  be  gettin'  to  a 
homelike  place  myself." 

"  Do  you  live  right  by  the  water,  and  is  there  any 
garden.-"'  Bird  continued,  a  feeling  of  nameless 
dread  creeping  over  her  as  she  saw  nothing  but  build- 
ings still  closing  in  on  all  sides ;  even  a  blacksmith's 
shop,  from  which  a  spirited  pair  of  horses  were  com- 
ing with  newly  shod  polished  hoofs,  seemed  strange 
and  out  of  place.  Then  there  were  more  poor  look- 
ing buildings,  and  a  great  stable  with  many  men 
standing  about  and  horses  being  constantly  driven  in 
and  out  to  show  the  people  who  waited  on  the  curb- 
stone. 

"  By  the  river,  and  do  I  have  a  garden,"  he  echoed, 
laughing  heartily.  "  Do  you  think  I'm  one  o'  the 
millionnaires  you  read  about  in  the  papers,  my  girl  ? 
Do  I  keep  an  automobile  and  eat  at  the  Waldorf- 
Astoria  .-• "  and  then,  seeing  that  Bird  could  not  under- 
stand the  comparison,  he  patted  her  good-naturedly 
on  the  shoulder. 

As  they  passed  the  stable  quite  a  number  of  the 


A   CAGED    BIRD  69 

men  spoke  to  her  uncle,  but  instead  of  resenting  it  as 
she  expected,  he  joked  and  laughed  and  seemed  very 
glad  to  see  them. 

"It's  called  the  'Horse's  Head,'  and  it's  out  of 
there  my  job  is,"  he  said  to  Bird,  pointing  over  his 
shoulder  at  the  stable,  "  for  half  the  time  I'm  over 
the  country  from  Kentucky  to  Canada  picking  up 
horses,  and  the  other  half  of  the  time  I'm  helping 
to  sell  them  out  again,  so  I  live  as  near  by  as  may  be 
for  convenience." 

At  this  Bird's  heart  sunk  still  farther,  for  in  the 
prim  New  England  town  where  she  was  born  and 
bred  a  Puritan,  a  horse-dealer  meant  either  some 
oversharp  farmer  who  could  outwit  his  neighbours  or 
a  roving  fellow,  half  gypsy,  half  tramp,  of  very  ill 
repute,  who  went  about  from  town  to  town  buying 
and  selling  animals  who  mostly  had  something  the 
matter  with  them  that  had  to  be  concealed  by  lying. 

John  O'More,  striding  on  ahead,  did  not  notice  her 
expression,  nor  would  he  have  understood  if  he  had 
read  her  thoughts,  for  he  was  perfectly  satisfied  with 
himself  and  everything  else  in  his  surroundings,  ex- 
cept the  fact  of  little  Billy's  lameness,  and  for  a  man 
of  his  class  he  was  roughly  honest  and  good-hearted. 

"  Here's  where !  "  he  said  at  last,  turning  into  the 
doorway  of  a  tall  building  with  one  door  and  many 


70  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

windows.  The  square  vestibule  was  dusty  and  had  a 
ragged  mat  in  the  centre,  while  on  one  side  were  ten 
letter-boxes  in  a  double  row,  with  a  bell  knob  and 
speaking-tube,  as  O'More  explained,  over  each. 

"  Is  this  your  house  ?  It  seems  pretty  big,"  said 
Bird,  wearily. 

"  One  floor  of  it  is,"  he  answered,  laughing  again ; 
**  it's  what's  called  *  a  flat  house,'  because  each  tenant 
lives  flat  on  one  floor,  with  conveniences  at  hand  and 
no  water  to  carry,  which  beats  the  country  all  out," 
he  added  slyly.  "See,  I'll  but  touch  the  bell  and 
the  door  '11  open  itself." 

And  he  suited  the  action  to  the  word,  the  door 
opening  to  reveal  a  narrow,  dark  hall  with  a 
flight  of  steep  stairs  covered  with  a  shabby  red 
carpet. 

As  Bird  groped  her  way  up,  one,  two,  three  flights, 
fairly  gasping  for  breath  in  the  close,  hot  place,  she 
stumbled  against  groups  of  children  who  were  sitting 
or  playing  school  on  the  stairs. 

"  It's  lighter  near  the  top ;  that's  why  I  choose 
it,"  called  her  uncle,  himself  puffing  and  blowing  as 
he  climbed.  "  Here  we  are,"  and  he  pushed  open  a 
door  into  an  inner  hall,  and  then  another  into  a  sort 
of  sitting  room  where  a  tall,  red-haired  woman,  clad 
in  a  collarless  calico  sack  was  sewing  on  a  machine, 


A   CAGED    BIRD  71 

while  a  pile  of  showy  summer  silks  and  muslins  was 
lying  on  a  chair  beside  her. 

"Hello,  Rosie,  old  woman;  here's  Bird  O'More, 
Terry's  orphan,  that  I  brought  back  to  stop  a  bit 
until  we  see  where  we're  at,"  and  he  gave  his  wife 
a  knowing  wink  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  know  it's 
sudden  on  you,  but  let  her  down  as  easy  as  you 
can. 

The  "old  woman,"  who  was  perhaps  forty,  or  at 
most  forty-five,  glanced  up,  and  then,  either  not  under- 
standing or  pretending  not  to,  her  face  flushed  as 
she  jerked  out,  her  eyes  flashing,  "Well,  if  you  ain't 
the  aggravatment  of  men,  John  O'More,  to  bring 
company  just  when  I've  got  Mame  Callahan's  trou- 
sew  to  finish,  and  she  gettin'  married  next  week,  and 
Billy  bein'  that  cantankerous  with  cry  in'  to  go  over 
to  the  park  or  down  to  see  them  fishes  that  my 
head's  ready  to  split,"  she  whimpered. 

With  all  his  will  the  man  cowered  before  her 
tongue,  and  in  spite  of  her  own  pain  Bird's  womanly 
little  heart  pitied  him.  She  saw  the  piled-up  gar- 
ments and  knew  at  once  that  her  aunt  was  a  dress- 
maker, and  her  gentle  breeding  led  her  to  say  the 
one  thing  that  could  have  averted  an  explosion. 

"  Aunt  Rose,  I  could  take  Billy  to  see  the  fish  or 
something  if  you'll  tell  me  the  way." 


72  AUNT   JIMMY'S  WILL 

"  That's  what  I  figured  on  when  I  brought  her," 
said  O'More,  greatly  relieved,  and  quickly  following 
the  lead ;  "  I  knew  you'd  often  spoke  of  gettin'  a 
girl  from  the  Sisters,  and  that's  why  I  brought  Bird 
instead  of  leavin'  her  to  slave  fer  strangers,"  he 
stammered. 

"  Humph,"  answered  Mrs.  O'More,  at  least  some- 
what pacified,  "  Billy's  fastened  in  his  chair  on  the 
fire-escape ;  she'd  better  go  there  and  sit  with  him  a 
while  until  it's  supper-time.  It's  too  late  for  them 
to  go  traipsing  around  the  streets  to-night.  Can  you 
do  anything  useful  ? "  she  said,  fixing  her  sharp, 
greenish  eyes  on  Bird,  who  tried  to  gather  her  wits 
together  as  she  answered,  "  I  can  make  coffee,  and 
toast,  and  little  biscuits,  and  two  kinds  of  cake,  and — " 
then  she  hesitated  and  stopped,  for  she  was  going  to 
say  "  do  fractions,  write,  read  French  a  little,  and 
draw  and  paint,"  but  she  felt  as  if  these  last  items 
would  count  against  her. 

"  Humph,"  said  her  aunt  again,  this  time  more 
emphatically,  "I  guess  you  done  well  to  bring  her, 
Johnny.  Turned  thirteen,  you  say.  Of  course  she'll 
have  to  make  a  show  of  goin'  to  school  for  another 
year  on  account  of  the  law,  but  they  can't  ask  it 
before  the  fall  term.  I  suppose  she'll  have  to  sleep  on 
this  parlour  lounge,  though ;  there's  no  other  place." 


A   CAGED   BIRD  73 

John  O'More  was  now  beaming  as  he  led  Bird 
through  a  couple  of  dark  bedrooms  toward  the 
kitchen,  where  the  mysterious  "  fire-escape  "  seemed 
to  be  located. 

Going  to  an  open  back  window  he  looked  out, 
motioning  Bird  to  follow.  What  she  saw  was  a 
small  platform,  about  three  feet  wide  and  ten  feet 
long,  surrounded  by  an  iron  railing;  one  end  was 
heaped  with  a  litter  of  boxes  and  broken  flower- 
pots that  partly  hid  a  trap  door  from  which  a  ladder 
led  to  the  balcony  belonging  to  the  floor  below.  At 
the  other  end,  fastened  in  a  baby's  chair  by  the  tray 
in  front,  sat  a  dear  little  fellow  with  great  blue  eyes 
and  a  curved,  sensitive  mouth,  while  tears  were 
making  rivers  of  mud  on  his  pale  cheeks  as  he 
sobbed  softly  to  himself,  "  I  want  to  go ;  oh,  I  want 
to  get  out  and  see  the  fishes." 

"  So  you  shall,"  said  O'More,  undoing  the  barrier 
and  lifting  the  child  on  his  strong  arm  while  he  tried 
awkwardly  to  wipe  his  face. 

"  Let  me,"  said  Bird,  wetting  her  handkerchief 
at  the  kitchen  sink  and  gently  bathing  eyes,  nose, 
and  mouth  carefully,  as  Mrs.  Lane  had  bathed 
hers  —  only  a  day  ago,  was  it }  It  seemed  a  life- 
time. 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  said  Billy,  gazing  at  Bird  over 


74  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

his  father's  shoulder,  as  he  wound  his  little  arms 
around  the  thick  neck. 

"  She's  your  cousin  Bird,  come  from  the  country  to 
play  with  Billy  and  take  him  to  see  the  fishes.  Go 
out  there  on  the  platform  with  him  a  spell  till  the 
heat  dies  down ;  the  doctor  says  he's  to  get  plenty  of 
air  you  see." 

"  Where  do  you  get  the  air  here .'' "  asked  Bird, 
wonderingly,  looking  at  the  paved  yards  filled  with 
rubbish,  the  tall  clothes  poles,  and  the  backs  of  the 
other  buildings  where  more  fire-escapes  clung  like 
dusty  cobwebs. 

"  Air .?  Oh,  out  here  and  down  in  the  street  mostly 
if  there's  no  time  fer  going  across  to  any  o'  the 
parks.  Get  a  bit  acquainted  now,  youngsters,  for 
I've  got  to  report  at  the  stable  before  supper,"  said 
O'More,  putting  Billy  back  into  his  chair  and  prepar- 
ing to  leave,  wiping  the  sweat  from  his  face  as  if  he 
had  thus  put  the  whole  matter  of  Bird  from  him. 

For  a  few  minutes  the  pair  were  silent.  "  Is  your 
name  Bird } "  asked  Billy,  eying  her  solemnly,  and, 
upon  her  nodding  "  Yes,"  he  rambled  on,  "  There's 
a  yellow  bird  in  a  cage  downstairs  at  Mrs.  Calla- 
han's—  it's  name  is  Canary  and  it  can  sing.  Can 
you   sing  ? " 

"  Yes ;  that  is,  I  used  to  last  week,"  she  said  uncer- 


A   CAGED   BIRD  75 

tainly,  the  tears  running  between  her  fingers  that  she 
held  before  her  face,  for  in  the  past  ten  minutes  her 
last  hope  had  fled.  No  room  where  she  could  work 
alone,  not  even  a  back-yard  garden  or  a  leaf  to  pick, 
and  the  bars  of  the  fire-escape  seemed  to  be  closing 
in  like  a  cage. 

"  Now  you're  crying,  too,"  said  Billy,  prying  open 
her  hands  with  his  thin  fingers,  while  his  lip  quivered ; 
"  do  you  want  to  get  out  and  see  the  fishes  too  ?  " 

"Yes,  Billy,  I  do ;  but  we  can't  go  just  now,  so  we 
must  play  we  are  birds  in  a  cage  like  the  one  down- 
stairs," smiling  through  her  tears.  "  I'll  sing  for 
you,"  and  she  began  in  a  low  voice  a  song  that  Terry 
had  taught  her :  — 

"  When  little  birdie  bye-bye  goes, 
Silent  as  mice  in  cliurches, 
He  puts  his  head  where  no  one  knows 
And  on  one  leg  he  perches." 

When  she  finished,  the  little  arms  stole  around  her 
neck  also,  and  Billy,  his  face  all  smiles,  said,  "  That 
bird's  me,  cause  I've  only  got  one  good  leg,  and  I'm 
going  to  have  you  for  my  canary,  only,"  looking  at  her 
gown  and  hair,  "you're  more  black  than  yellow,"  and 
giving  her  a  feeble  squeeze,  "  and  some  day  you'll  get 
me  out  to  see  the  fishes,  won't  you  ? " 


76  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

At  his  baby  caress  Love  lit  a  new  lamp  in  her  dark 
path  and  Hope  stole  back  and  led  the  way  as  she 
hugged  Billy  close  and  said,  "Yes,  some  day  we'll 
surely  get  out  of  the  cage  together  and  fly  far 
away." 


MRS.   LANE  PLAYS   DETECTIVE 

For  several  weeks  after  the  reading  of  Aunt 
Jimmy's  will,  it  was  the  talk  of  the  neighbourhood,  the 
alternate  topic  of  conversation  being  the  death  of 
Terence  O'More  and  the  sudden  disappearance  of 
Bird.  For  Bird's  Uncle  John  had  come  and  gone  so 
suddenly  that  few  knew  of  his  flying  visit,  and  those 
who  did  turned  it  into  an  interesting  mystery.  Some 
said  that  he  was  a  very  rich  relation  from  the  west, 
others  that  he  was  not  an  uncle  at  all,  but  the  agent 
of  the  State  Orphan  Asylum  to  which  the  Lanes, 
afraid  of  being  expected  to  care  for  Bird,  had  hurried 
her  off.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  it  was  Mrs. 
Slocum,  piqued  at  not  securing  Bird  as  a  maid  of  all 
work  and  no  pay,  who  concocted  this  tale. 

In  due  time  Probate  Judge  Ricker  appointed 
Joshua  Lane  administrator,  to  take  charge  of  the 
furniture  and  few  effects  that  O'More  had  left  and 
settle  up  his  debts  as  far  as  possible.  There  was  a 
little  money  left  of  what  his  wife  had  inherited,  in  the 

77 


78  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

Northboro  Bank,  but  only  enough  to  pay  his  debts,  it 
was  feared,  without  so  much  as  leaving  a  single  dollar 
for  Bird. 

Since  the  homestead  and  Mill  Farm  property  that 
belonged  to  Mrs.  O'More  had  been  forfeited  through 
some  defect  in  the  drawing  up  of  a  mortgage  coupled 
with  O'More's  slackness  in  attending  to  the  matter, 
Joshua  Lane  had  felt  there  was  something  wrong 
and  that  a  little  good  legal  advice,  combined  with 
common  sense,  might  have  at  least  saved  something 
if  not  the  entire  property. 

When,  a  year  later,  the  mill  had  slipped  into 
Abiram  Slocum's  hands,  Joshua's  suspicions  were 
again  aroused,  for  Slocum's  transactions  in  real 
estate  were  usually  adroit  and  to  the  cruel  disad- 
vantage of  some  one,  if  not  absolutely  dishonest 
according  to  the  letter  of  the  law ;  but  when  Joshua 
had  spoken  to  O'More  about  the  matter,  he,  feeling 
hopeful  about  his  painting,  had  put  him  off  with  a 
promise  to  "  some  day  "  show  him  the  "  letters  and 
papers "  that  bore   upon   the   unfortunate  business. 

The  day  had  never  come,  and  now  that  Joshua 
had  the  right  he  determined  to  sift  the  affair  thor- 
oughly, but  the  papers  were  nowhere  to  be  found. 
The  envelope  containing  O'More's  bank-book  held 
nothing  else  but  the  certificate  of  his  marriage  with 


MRS.    LANE   PLAYS    DETECTIVE        79 

Sarah  Turner,  and  some  letters  from  his  mother 
in  the  old  country, 

Joshua,  though  slow,  was  not  without  shrewdness, 
and  he  had  not  only  kept  the  old  house  where 
the  O'Mores  had  lived  securely  locked  by  day, 
until  when,  upon  the  selling  of  the  furniture,  it 
should  again  return  to  the  Slocums  from  whom  it 
was  rented,  but  at  Mrs.  Lane's  suggestion  he  had 
Nellis,  his  oldest  son,  sleep  there  at  night,  as  she 
said,  "To  keep  folks  whom  I'll  not  name  from 
prowlin'." 

Joshua  looked  to  the  sale  of  the  furniture  to  at 
least  pay  the  last  quarter's  rent  due.  By  a  strange 
happening  the  afternoon  before  the  vendue  was  to 
take  place,  as  he  was  about  to  drive  up  to  the  old 
house  at  the  cross-roads  to  make  a  final  thorough 
search  in  closets,  drawers,  and  the  old-time  chimney 
nooks  for  the  missing  papers,  a  passer-by,  hurrying 
in  the  same  direction,  called  out  to  him :  '*  There's 
a  fire  up  cemetery  hill  way ;  smoke's  comin'  over 
the  hickory  woods.  Maybe  Dr.  Jedd's  big  hay 
barn  or  Slocum's  old  farm,  both  bein'  in  a  plum 
line  from  here."  When,  sharply  whipping  up  the 
old  mare,  much  to  her  astonishment,  he  hurried  to 
the  place,  he  not  only  found  that  it  was  the  old 
farm-house   hopelessly   ablaze   from    roof  to   cellar, 


8o  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

but  Abiram  Slocum  appearing  a  few  moments  later 
by  the  road  that  ran  north  of  the  place,  flew  into 
either  a  real  or  well-acted  rage,  shaking  his  fist 
and  calling :  "  It's  that  there  hulking  boy,  Nellis, 
o'  yourn,  that  has  done  me  this  mischief.  Must 
'a'  smoked  his  pipe  in  bed  or  left  his  candle  lighted 
until  it  burned  down,  for  it's  plain  to  be  seen  by 
the  way  the  roof's  ketched,  the  fire  started  upstairs 
and  smouldered  around  all  day  until  it  bust  out 
everywheres  to  onct." 

"  I  reckon  yer  insured,"  said  Joshua,  dryly, 
taking  little  account  of  what  he  said,  as  he  began 
to  realize  that  the  fire  had  put  an  end  forever  to 
the  discovery  of  the  papers  that  might  have  brought 
good  luck  to  Bird,  as  well  as  destroyed  a  part  of 
the  slender  property. 

"  A  trifle  —  a  mere  trifle  —  not  the  cost  of  the 
wood  in  the  house,  let  alone  the  labour  at  present 
rates.  I  could  hev  rented  the  place  tew  teachers 
for  a  summer  cottage  for  twenty  a  month,  and  I 
intended  buyin'  in  the  furniture  so  to  do.  If"  — 
and  he  drew  his  mean  features  together,  and 
then  spread  them  out  again  in  a  spasm  of  indigna- 
tion—  "law  was  just,  you'd  ought  to  make  it  up  to 
me,  Joshua  Lane,  —  that  you  had." 

But   when   he    found    that    the    few    neighbours 


MRS.   LANE   PLAYS   DETECTIVE        8i 

who  had  gathered  were  not  sympathetic,  and  only 
seemed  to  regret  the  fire  on  account  of  the  O'More 
furniture,  he  disappeared,  and,  strangely  enough, 
later  on  no  one  could  tell  in  which  direction  he 
went  or  if  he  had  gone  afoot,  on  horseback,  or  in 
the  yellow  buckboard  in  which  he  was  wont  to  drive 
about  to  harry  his  tenants  and  surprise  his  farm 
hands  if  they  but  paused  to  straighten  their  backs. 

When  Joshua  told  of  the  fire  at  the  supper- 
table,  Mrs.  Lane  fairly  snorted  with  indignation, 
saying,  "Firstly,  Nellis  didn't  smoke  last  night, 
bein'  out  o'  tobacco  and  leavin'  his  pipe  on  the 
chimneypiece,  where  it  is  now,  and  secondly  he 
asked  me  for  a  candle;  and  then,  the  Lockwood 
boys  comin'  along,  and  offerin'  to  walk  up  with 
him,  he  went  off  while  I  was  lookin'  for  the  store- 
closet  key  which  had  fallen  off  its  nail,  and  clean 
through  the  bottom  of  the  clock  "  —  (the  inside  of 
the  long  body  of  the  tall  clock  being  the  place 
where  the  Lane  family's  keys  lived,  each  on  its 
own  nail). 

"This  morning  when  he  came  down  home  to 
breakfast  he  mentioned  it,  and  said  it  didn't 
matter  because  the  moon  was  so  bright  he  un- 
dressed by  light  of  it.  Bill  Lockwood  stopping  up 
there  with  him  for  company's  sake. 


82  AUNT   JIMMY'S  WILL 

"  A  trifle  of  insurance  indeed !  and  all  hope  of 
Bird  bein'  righted  gone!  Joshua  Lane,  do  you 
know  what  I  think  and  believe  ? "  And  Lauretta 
Ann  jumped  up  so  suddenly  that  her  ample  pro- 
portions struck  the  tea-tray  edge  and  an  avalanche 
of  cups  and  saucers  covered  the  floor. 

"Your  thoughts  and  beliefs  '11  soon  fill  a  book, 
big  as  the  dictionary  and  doubtless  be  worth  as 
much,"  said  Joshua,  pausing  a  second  with  a 
potato  speared  on  his  fork,  while  he  gave  his  wife 
a  stern,  silencing  look  that  was  so  rare  that  when- 
ever she  saw  it,  she  gave  heed  at  once,  "but  in 
this  here  matter  I'd  advise  you  to  keep  'em  good 
and  close  to  yourself.  We've  got  plenty  ahead  to 
shoulder  this  summer,  besides  which  if  papers  had 
been  found,  'tain't  likely  any  lawyer  hereabouts 
would  risk  taking  the  matter  without  money  to 
back  him,  and  'Biram  Slocum  to  face." 

So  saying,  Joshua,  having  put  himself  outside  of 
the  potato,  a  final  piece  of  pie,  and  the  tea  that 
had  been  cooling  in  his  saucer,  pushed  back  his 
chair  and  drew  on  his  coat,  saying  as  he  went  out : 
"  The  first  strawberries  over  ter  Aunt  Jimmy's 
'11  be  ready  for  marketing  on  Monday,  and  this  is 
Thursday.  I  must  look  around  and  engage  pickers. 
That  acre  bed  of  the  new-fangled  kind  is   a  week 


MRS.   LANE   PLAYS   DETECTIVE        83 

ahead  of  Lockwood's  earliest.  Aunt  Jimmy  was 
no  fool  when  it  came  to  foresighted  fruit  raisin'." 

"  I  never  said  she  was,  nor  in  other  things 
either  if  her  meanin'  could  be  read.  What  time 
did  you  say  the  fire  started  ? "  she  added  in  an 
unconcerned  sort  of  way,  as  she  stooped  to  pick  up 
the  scattered  cups,  which  were  so  substantial  that 
they  had  not  been  broken  by  their  fall. 

"  Let  me  see  —  it  must  hev  been  close  to  two 
o'clock  when  I  drove  out  of  the  yard;  the  mail 
carrier  had  just  passed,  and  he's  due  at  the 
comer  at  two,  and  at  the  rate  I  went  I  wasn't 
fifteen  minutes  from  the  fire.  From  the  way  it 
had  holt,  it  must  have  been  goin'  all  of  half  an 
hour.  Queer  'Biram  didn't  scent  it  sooner  workin' 
in  the  corn  patch  back  of  the  wood  lot  as  he 
appeared  to  be,  leastways  he  came  down  the  lane 
from  there. 

*'  Fire  couldn't  hev  ketched  before  one  o'clock, 
for  the  hands  up  at  Lockwood's  go  up  that  way 
before  and  after  noon  as  well  as  of  mornings,  and 
if  Nellis  had  left  anything  smouldering,  they'd 
have  surely  smelt  it,  first  or  last." 

Joshua  paused  a  moment,  but,  as  Mrs.  Lane  asked 
no  more  questions,  went  out,  closing  the  door.  No 
sooner    did    she    hear    the    latch    catch    than   she 


84  AUNT   JLMMY'S   WILL 

jumped  up,  saying  to  herself :  "  Appeared  to  come 
from  the  com  patch,  did  he  ?  I  wonder  what  he 
was  doin'  there  ?  He  planted  late,  so  the  corn 
can't  be  set  for  hoeing ;  he  might  be  watchin'  for 
crows  or  riggin'  a  scarecrow."  As  she  pro- 
nounced the  last  word  she  had  reached  the  dresser 
where  hung  a  large  square  calendar  that  adver- 
tised one  of  the  husky  sorts  of  breakfast  foods 
that  taste  as  if  they  might  have  been  the  stuffing 
of  Noah's  pillow. 

Lifting  this  down  she  carried  it  to  the  table,  and, 
after  hunting  in  the  dresser  drawer  for  the  pencil 
with  which  she  kept  her  various  &g%  and  butter 
accounts,  she  proceeded  to  put  a  series  of  dots 
about  the  particular  day  of  the  month  (it  was 
June  loth),  and  then  reversing  the  sheet,  she  cov- 
ered the  back  with  a  collection  of  curiously  spelled 
and,  to  the  casual  observer,  meaningless  words. 

She  had  barely  time  to  replace  the  calendar  when 
the  boys  came  in  for  their  supper,  and  she  fell 
vigorously  to  rearranging  the  table  and  brewing 
fresh  tea. 

The  elder  boys  spoke  of  the  fire  as  a  bit  of  "  old 
Slocum's  usual  luck,"  for  it  was  known  that  the 
house  would  need  a  great  deal  of  repairing  before 
any  one  but  the  artist,  whose  thoughts  were  always 


MRS.   LANE   PLAYS   DETECTIVE        85 

in  the  clouds,  would  be  willing  to  hire  it.  Lammy 
alone  rejoiced  in  the  fire  because,  as  he  said,  "  When 
Bird  comes  back,  the  house  won't  be  there  for  her  to 
see  and  make  her  sorry." 

"  Better  not  say  that  outdoors,"  warned  Nellis, 
"  or  Slocum  '11  say  you  fired  it  on  purpose  —  he'd 
like  nothing  better.  By  the  way,  mother,"  he  con- 
tinued, as  Mrs.  Lane  glanced  keenly  at  Lammy, 
"  what  do  you  think  I  heard  at  the  shop  to-day  ? " 

"  Concernin'  what } " 

"The  Mill  Farm." 

"  I  can't  think.  Those  Larkin  folks  hev  worked 
the  land  these  two  years  past,  but  the  mill  hasn't 
run  this  long  while,  —  not  since  the  winter  Mis' 
O'More  died  and  the  ice  bulged  the  dam ;  the  fodder 
trade  has  all  gone  away,  and  I  don't  know  what 
'Biram  Slocum  can  turn  it  to  'nless  he  can  insure 
the  water  an'  then  let  it  loose  somehow." 

"There  is  a  party  of  engineer  fellows,  or  some- 
thing of  the  sort,  just  come  to  camp  out  up  by 
Rooster  Lake,  —  sort  of  a  summer  school,  I  guess,  for 
there  are  some  older  men  along  that  they  call  pro- 
fessors. They  scatter  all  over  the  country  surveyin' 
and  crackin'  up  the  rocks  with  little  hammers  to  see 
what  they  are  made  of. 

"  This  afternoon  half  a  dozen  of  them  came  down 


86  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

to  the  shop  to  see  some  new  kind  of  a  boring  tool 
that  our  foreman  has  designed,  and  Mr.  Clarke  was 
with  them, — you  know  he  is  the  man  who  started 
the  Art  and  Trade  School  in  Northboro,  and  has 
his  finger  in  a  dozen  pies.  Pretty  soon  the  super- 
intendent called  me  and  said,  *  Here,  Lane,  you  live 
out  at  Laurelville ;  these  gentlemen  wish  to  see  the 
old  Turner  Mill  Farm  place.  I'll  let  you  off  the  rest 
of  the  day  if  you'll  show  them  the  way  over.' 

"  I  got  in  the  runabout  with  Mr.  Clarke  and  the 
others  followed  in  a  livery  six-seater.  The  old 
gentleman  asked  me  all  sorts  of  questions  about 
the  water-power,  and  how  low  the  stream  fell  in 
summer,  and  if  the  pond  ever  froze  clear  through, 
and  one  thing  and  another. 

"  When  we  got  to  the  Mill  Farm,  there  was  no  one 
at  home  but  the  dogs  and  hens ;  I  suppose  the  folks 
had  all  gone  to  Northboro  to  the  circus." 

"  Sure  enough,  it  is  circus  day !  How  did  I  forget 
it }  "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Lane.  "  That  accounts  for  why 
there  were  so  few  folks  on  the  roads  this  noon !  " 

"  Yes,  everybody  seems  to  have  gone  but  our- 
selves, even  Lockwood's  field-hands  took  a  day 
off." 

"They  did?  Then  they  didn't  go  up  and  down 
the  cemetery  hill  road  this  noon?" 


MRS.   LANE   PLAYS    DETECTIVE        87 

"  Of  course  not,  why  should  they  ? "  replied 
Nellis. 

"You  didn't  remember  that  it  was  circus  day,  did 
you,  and  I  guess  it  is  the  first  time  you  ever  forgot 
it,"  said  Mrs.  Lane  to  Lammy. 

"I  knew  —  all  right,  but  I'm  savin'  up  for — you 
know,"  replied  Lammy,  wriggling  out  of  his  chair 
and  going  to  the  door  where  he  began  crumbing 
bread  and  throwing  it  to  some  Uttle  chickens  that 
had  strayed  up  out  of  bounds. 

"  I  do  wish  you  had  mentioned  it,  anyhow ;  it 
would  hev  done  us  all  good  to  have  a  change, 
though  to  be  sure  I  do  suppose  some  folks  would 
have  turned  our  going  into  disrespect  to  Aunt 
Jimmy,  —  Mis'  Slocum  in  particular." 

"She  went,  and  Ram,  and  Mr.  Slocum,  though 
he  came  home  early.  I  saw  him  down  in  the 
turnpike  store  back  of  the  schoolhouse  this  noon; 
he  was  sayin'  he'd  had  to  come  back  early  on 
account  of  havin'  a  lot  of  things  to  attend  to  over 
at  the  Mill  Farm  this  afternoon,"  said  Lammy. 

"The  turnpike  store.''  He  doesn't  trade  there  — 
it's  a  mile  out  of  his  way,"  said  Mrs.  Lane, 
thoughtfully. 

"  He  didn't  get  to  the  Mill  Farm,  anyway,"  said 
Nellis,  "  because  I  was  there  from  after  dinner  until 


88  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

I  came  home  just  now.  Where  was  I  ?  You  got 
me  all  off  the  track." 

"You  were  sayin'  that  Mr.  Clarke  asked  you  all 
sorts  of  questions  about  the  mill  stream,"  said  Mrs. 
Lane,  who  now  seemed  to  have  lost  interest  in 
Nellis's  story. 

"  Oh,  yes,  —  well,  Mr.  Clarke  and  that  Mr.  Brother- 
ton,  —  that  is  superintendent  of  the  engine  shop  in 
Northboro,  —  poked  about  a  lot  together,  measuring 
things  and  figuring  in  a  little  book  he  had  in  his 
pocket.  It  looked  as  if  they  were  going  to  make 
an  afternoon  of  it,  and  as  I  saw  a  fishin'  pole 
inside  one  of  the  open  sheds,  I  thought  I'd  go 
down  the  sluice  way  and  try  for  a  mess  of  perch. 
I  was  lyin'  quiet  out  along  a  willow  stump,  thinkin' 
the  folks  were  in  the  mill,  when  I  heard  voices  on 
the  dam  above.  Mr.  Clarke  said :  '  I  tell  you  what, 
Brotherton,  I  want  you  to  negotiate  this  affair  for 
me.  That  Slocum  is  a  tricky  fellow.  I  saw  him  a 
month  ago  and  told  him  I'd  not  touch  the  property 
until  that  snarl  about  the  mortgage  foreclosure  was 
untangled,  the  price  he  asked  was  outrageous  for 
two  hundred  acres,  of  course  the  buildings  are 
only  fit  for  kindling.  Now  I  want  you  to  either 
buy  me  the  farm  and  water  right,  or  else  lease  it 
for  say  twenty  years ;  then  I  will  run  a  spur  of  the 


MRS.   LANE   PLAYS   DETECTIVE        89 

Northboro  Valley  railroad  down  here,  move  the 
locomotive  works  and  the  paper-mill,  and  enlarge 
both  plants.  This  is  the  right  place ;  plenty  of  room 
to  build  houses  for  the  hands,  and  close  enough  to 
my  place  to  be  under  my  eye  without  being  annoying. 

'* '  It  will  suit  my  daughter  Marion,  too.  She 
has  all  sorts  of  ideas  about  building  a  model  village. 
Of  course  this  is  between  ourselves,  for  if  that  old 
Slocum  rat  dreamed  that  I  was  behind  you,  he 
would  ask  a  dollar  a  blade  for  every  spear  of  run-out 
wire-grass  on  the  farm.*  " 

"  To  think  of  it !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Lane,  sitting  down 
so  suddenly  in  the  big  rocking-chair  that  it  nearly 
turned  a  somersault  in  surprise,  "  and  it  was  only  a 
scrap  of  a  mortgage,  not  more'n  5 2 500,  that  was  the 
cause  of  workin'  the  O' Mores  out  of  property  that 
had  been  in  her  family  near  two  hundred  years. 
Everybody  knows  there  was  crooked  business  if 
it  could  only  be  proved.  But  your  father  can't 
find  any  papers,  and  now  just  as  he  was  going  this 
afternoon  to  search  through  poor  O'More's  furniture 
and  things  at  the  house,  it  had  to  go  and  burn  down, 
and  the  hopes  we  had  that  something  might  be 
worked  out  for  Bird  hev  all  gone  up  in  smoke," 
she  said,  addressing  the  stove  solemnly. 

The  boys  went  out  together  to  take  a  stroll  up 


90  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

to  the  scene  of  the  fire.  Hardly  had  they  disap- 
peared when  Mrs.  Lane  jumped  from  the  chair 
with  such  a  bound  that  it  completed  the  somer- 
sault and  stood  on  its  head  facing  the  wall. 

"  I  wonder!  "  she  ejaculated,  addressing  the  pump 
by  the  sink,  and  shaking  her  finger  at  it  as  if  the 
gayly  painted  bit  of  iron  was  her  husband.  "  Yes, 
it  must  be  it.  All  along  I  allowed  'Biram  Slocum 
fired  that  house  for  the  insurance.  Now,  by  a  new 
light  I  read  he  did  it  so  in  case  there  was  any  papers 
or  letters  to  and  fro  about  that  mortgage  that  they'd 
get  burned. 

**  I've  noticed  he  and  she  hev  made  plenty  of 
excuses  to  get  into  the  house  alone,  but  I  never 
reckoned  it  was  for  anything  else  but  for  general 
meddlin',  and  pa's  keepin'  everything  so  close,  even 
nailing  up  the  cellar  doors  and  winders,  balked  'em. 

"He  knew  the  auction  was  ter-morrow,  and  that  he'd 
rather  burn  the  papers  and  furniture  than  risk  Joshua 
or  others  finding  'em  is  my  firm  belief,  and  I'd  like 
to  prove  it.  Not  that  it'll  do  Bird  any  good  now,  but 
it  would  be  a  satisfaction,  even  though,  as  Joshua 
says,  'We've  got  enough  business  of  our  own  to 
shoulder  before  fall  and  settlin'  time  comes.'  I  won- 
der if  'Biram  '11  hev  the  cheek  to  ask  for  the  rent  now. 

*'  Yes,  I'm  going  to  do  a  little  nosing  on  my  own 


MRS.   LANE   PLAYS   DETECTIVE        91 

account,  —  yes  I  be  ! "  she  continued,  adding  more 
mysterious  words  to  the  back  of  the  calendar  and 
nodding  determinedly  at  the  pump  as  if  it  had  Contra- 
dicted. "  Knowing  never  does  come  amiss,  even  if  it 
is  salted  down  for  a  spell.  Shoo !  "  she  cried  pres- 
ently, waving  the  dish  towel  at  the  chickens  who  had 
boldly  ventured  in,  and  then  the  tumult,  caused  by 
Twinkle's  chasing  them  back  to  their  yard  with  much 
barking  and  sundry  nips,  brought  her  back  to  the 
present  and  the  work  of  dish-washing  and  tidying  the 
kitchen  for  the  evening. 

Even  then  her  head  and  hands  did  not  work 
together.  She  hung  the  biscuit  in  a  pail  down  the 
well  and  set  away  the  butter  in  the  bread-box,  put 
sugar  instead  of  salt  into  the  bread  sponge  she  was 
setting;  and,  finally,  before  she  sat  down  to  rest 
remembering  that  the  pantry  door  locked  hard  and 
creaked  when  it  opened,  she  poured  toothache  drops 
instead  of  oil  upon  both  hinges  and  key,  and  pres- 
ently began  to  sniff  about  and  wonder  if  Dinah 
Lucky,  who  had  been  in  that  day  to  do  the  weekly 
laundry,  was  doctoring  for  "break-bone  pains"  again, 
and  hoped  she  had  used  the  laudanum  outside  instead 
of  in,  otherwise  nobody  could  tell  when  she  would 
turn  up  to  do  the  ironing. 


92  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

Next  morning  if  Joshua  Lane  and  Lammy  had  not 
been  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  down  to  the  fruit  farm  to 
prepare  the  crates  and  small  boxes  for  the  coming 
strawberry  picking,  they  would  have  noticed  that 
Lauretta  Ann  seemed  to  be  quite  excited  and  anxious 
to  get  them  out  of  the  way. 

But  Joshua  was  unusually  absorbed  and  quiet  —  he 
was  disappointed  at  not  finding  the  papers  —  but  he 
had  a  hard  summer's  work  ahead  of  him  with  plenty 
of  thinking  in  it;  while  as  for  Lammy, — he  was  trying 
to  calculate  how  many  strawberries  he  must  pick  at  a 
cent  and  a  half  a  quart  to  buy  a  round-trip  ticket 
from  Laurelville  to  New  York,  so  that  he  might  in- 
vite Bird  to  come  up  for  a  Fourth  of  July  visit ;  also 
as  to  whether  it  would  be  possible  to  do  this  and  have 
anything  left  to  buy  fire-crackers.  Yet,  after  all, 
crackers  were  of  small  account,  for  Bird  did  not  care 
much  for  noisy  pleasure,  and  if  she  didn't  come,  he 
wouldn't  care  for  even  cannon  crackers  himself. 

"  I  suppose  'Biram  Slocum  will  go  over  to  North- 
boro  smart  and  early  to  collect  his  insurance,"  Mrs. 
Lane  remarked,  apparently  looking  out  of  the  window, 
but  stealing  a  side  glance  at  her  husband's  face. 

"  Mebbe  he  will ;  but  when  I  turned  the  cows  out 
an  hour  ago,  I  saw  him  driving  Milltown  way  in  his 
ordinary  clothes  with  a  plough  and  a  dinner-pail  along, 


MRS.    LANE    PLAYS   DETECTIVE        93 

so  I  reckoned  he  was  goin'  to  work  on  that  patch  of 
early  corn  he's  got  down  at  the  Mill  Farm." 

At  this  Mrs.  Lane's  eyes  glistened,  and  she 
plunged  some  dishes  into  the  tub  of  suds  with  a 
splash  that  was  an  unmistakable  signal  that  breakfast 
was  over  and  all  but  lazy  people  should  be  out. 

This  morning  she  bustled  so  that  a  half  hour  did 
all  the  work  of  "  redding  "  up  that  usually  took  two 
at  the  very  least,  and  when  Dinah  Lucky  came  to  do 
the  ironing  with  no  sniff  of  laudanum  about  her, 
though  the  kitchen  was  still  heavy  with  it,  Mrs.  Lane 
looked  puzzled,  then  much  to  that  fat  aunty's  aston- 
ishment popped  the  batch  of  six  plump  loaves  into 
the  oven  and,  leaving  Dinah  to  tend  the  baking,  —  a 
thing  that  save  for  illness  she  had  never  trusted  to 
other  hands  in  her  twenty  years  of  housekeeping,  — 
she  took  a  small  basket,  a  knife,  and  her  crisp  ging- 
ham sunbonnet,  and  muttering  something  about  try- 
ing to  get  one  more  mess  of  dandelion  greens,  even  if 
it  was  counted  late,  disappeared  through  the  wood- 
shed door. 

Dandelions  grew  in  plenty  in  the  moist  meadow 
below  the  cow  bam,  but  Mrs.  Lane  crossed  the  road 
and  took  a  winding  path  through  the  woods.  After 
following  this  for  some  distance  and  crossing  several 
fields  where  she  filled  her  basket  with  greens,  cutting 


94  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

only  the  very  youngest  tufts  with  the  greatest  delib- 
eration, she  turned  into  the  highway  through  the 
cemetery  gate  and  walked  rapidly  past  the  "  four 
comers,"  never  stopping  until  she  stood  in  the  en- 
closure that  had  once  been  Bird  O'More's  garden. 
Then  she  set  down  the  basket,  and,  seating  herself  on 
the  scorched  chopping-block,  looked  about  her. 

The  house  had  burned  down  to  the  foundation; 
some  of  the  heavy  chestnut  beams  had  not  been 
wholly  consumed  but  lay  in  a  heap  on  the  hard  dirt 
floor  of  the  cellar.  Otherwise  the  only  bits  of  wood- 
work remaining  were  the  frames  of  two  cellar  windows 
that  had  been  protected  by  the  deep  stone  niches  in 
which  they  rested.  The  great  centre  chimney,  around 
which  so  many  old  houses  are  built,  held  its  own, 
and  its  various  openings,  most  of  them  long  unused, 
marked  the  location  of  the  different  rooms ;  several 
of  these,  such  as  the  smoke  closet  and  brick  oven, 
being  closed  by  rusty  iron  doors. 

Presently  Mrs.  Lane  set  out  on  a  tour  of  inspection. 
The  half  dozen  outbuildings  were  quickly  explored, 
for,  with  the  exception  of  the  barn,  they  were  quite 
open  to  the  weather  and  as  rickety  as  card  houses. 
Tall  weeds  struggled  with  the  straggling  sweet-william 
and  fiery,  hardy  poppies  in  the  strip  before  the  lilac 
bushes  that  Bird  had  called  her  garden,  and  the  rusty 


MRS.   LANE    PLAYS   DETECTIVE        95 

wire  of  the  henyard  fence  enclosed  a  crowd  of  nettles 
that  stretched  toward  the  light  like  ill-favoured  pris- 
oners in  a  pen.  The  grass  and  low  bushes  had  been 
trampled  by  the  people  who  had  gathered  to  watch 
the  fire,  as  well  as  by  the  cows  that  had  strayed  in 
through  the  latchless  gate. 

Clearly  there  was  nothing  to  be  discovered  here. 
Next  Mrs.  Lane  walked  about  the  ruined  foundation 
looking  for  a  likely  spot  to  get  down  into  the  cellar. 
The  old  chimney  with  its  nooks  and  crannies  was  the 
only  thing  left  to  examine,  and  she  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  do  it  even  if  it  meant  a  rough  climb,  bruised 
knees,  and  scratched  fingers. 

In  some  places  little  heaps  of  ashes  were  still 
smouldering,  but  by  picking  her  way  carefully  down 
the  stone  steps  that  had  been  under  the  flap-door,  she 
reached  the  base  of  the  chimney  and  tried  the  first 
iron  door.  It  was  warped  with  the  heat,  but  after 
some  difficulty  she  opened  it,  only  to  find  the  ample 
closet  absolutely  empty.  Talking  to  herself  and 
saying  that  it  was  not  likely  that  anybody,  even  an 
artist,  would  hide  papers  in  a  cellar,  Mrs.  Lane  looked 
up  to  see  how  it  would  be  possible  to  reach  what  had 
been  the  kitchen  level,  where  the  chances  looked 
brighter ;  for  there  was  the  brick  oven  and  a  wide  fire- 
place, closed  by  sheet  iron  through  which  a  stove-pipe 


96  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

had  pierced.  There  was  no  way  up  but  to  use  the 
chinks  between  the  big  stones  for  stairs  and  climb. 
True,  she  had  seen  an  old  ladder  in  the  barn,  but 
Lauretta  Ann  was  too  practical  a  woman  to  trust  a 
dozed  rickety  ladder  —  she  preferred  to  cling  with 
her  fingers  and  climb,  and  cling  and  climb  she  pres- 
ently did. 

To  young  people  it  seems  a  very  small  feat  to 
climb  the  outside  of  a  broad,  rough,  stone  chimney 
that  slopes  gradually  from  a  wide  base  toward  the 
top.  For  Mrs.  Lane  —  stout,  thick  of  foot  and  nearer 
fifty  than  forty — it  was  a  terrible  exertion,  and  she 
paused  between  every  step  she  took  to  catch  her 
breath,  muttering,  "  Lauretta  Ann  Lane,  you  are  a 
fool  if  ever  there  was  one.  Suppose  folks  should  pass 
by  and  see  you  creepin'  up  here  like  a  squawkin' 
pigeon  woodpecker  hanging  to  a  tree  ?  " 

She,  however,  did  not  in  the  least  resemble  even 
that  heavy-bodied  bird.  Did  you  ever  see  a  wood- 
chuck  mount  a  low  tree  when  cornered  by  dogs  ? 
That  was  what  Mrs.  Lane  looked  like  as  she 
climbed.  And  did  you  ever  see  the  same  wood- 
chuck  scramble,  slip,  and  flop  down,  flatten  him- 
self, and  then  amble  to  his  hole,  when  he  thought 
his  pursuers  had  ceased  their  hunt  ?  Well,  that  was 
the  way  in  which  Mrs.  Lane  came  down  to  the  cellar 


MRS.    LANE    PLAYS   DETECTIVE        97 

bottom,  when  she  found  that  the  brick  oven  had  been 
used  merely  to  hold  broken  crockery  and  such  litter. 

For  a  minute  or  two  she  sat  flat  on  the  floor,  rest- 
ing, nursing  her  bruised  hands,  and  gazing  idly  at 
the  outline  of  the  sky  through  one  of  the  window 
holes  in  the  stone  wall.  Then,  as  she  recovered 
herself,  a  bit  of  something  fluttering  from  a  broken 
staple  in  the  scorched  window-frame  attracted  her 
attention.  She  picked  herself  up  and  examined  it. 
The  glass  had  broken  and  fallen  in,  while  the  bit 
of  metal  had  caught  a  narrow  rag  of  woollen  material 
some  six  inches  in  length.  This  was  singed  at 
the  edges,  but  enough  remained  to  show  that  it  was 
a  herring-bone  pattern  of  brown  and  gray  such  as 
is  often  seen  in  men's  suitings. 

Mrs.  Lane  looked  at  the  rag  thoughtfully  for 
a  moment,  then,  detaching  it,  pinned  it  carefully 
inside  the  lining  of  her  waist,  picked  up  her  basket 
of  greens  which  were  by  this  time  rather  withered, 
freshened  them  with  water  from  the  well,  and 
trudged  home  openly  by  the  highway,  saying,  as 
she  walked,  "  'Tain't  much,  and  most  likely  it's 
nothin'  —  still  maybe  it's  a  stitch  in  the  knittin',  and 
if  it  is,  another  '11  turn  up  sooner  or  later  to  loop 
on  to  it." 

At  dinner  Mr.   Lane  gave  his  wife  an  odd  look 


98  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

saying:  "Why,  mother,  where've  you  been?  You 
look  as  if  you'd  gone  a  berryin'  on  all  fours! 
You're  scratched  on  the  nose  and  chin,  let  alone 
your  hands." 

"Be  I  ? "  answered  " mother,"  so  fiercely  that 
Joshua  quailed,  and  remembered  guiltily  that  he  had 
forgotten  her  request  to  clear  a  tangle  of  cat  brier 
from  over  a  tumble-down  stone  wall  in  the  turkey 
pasture,  where  his  wife  passed  many  times  a  day  to 
herd  this  most  contrary  and  uncertain  of  the  poultry 
tribe,  so  he  said  nothing  more,  but  held  his  quarter 
of  dried  apple  pie  before  his  face  like  a  fan,  while  he 
slowly  reduced  its  size  by  taking  furtive  bites  at  the 
corners. 

About  four  o'clock  Mrs.  Lane  seated  herself  on 
the  front  porch  to  sew.  She  was  dressed  in  a  clean 
print  gown,  with  her  collar  fastened  by  a  large 
photograph  "  miniature  "  pin  of  Janey  when  a  baby, 
a  sign  that  she  considered  herself  dressed  for  callers. 
True  it  was  Saturday  and  Dinah  Lucky  was  still 
pounding  the  ironing  board,  but  that  was  because 
she  had  "  disappointed  "  on  the  two  first  week-days 
sacred  to  such  work,  and  not  through  any  slackness 
on  Mrs.  Lane's  part. 

The  weekly  mending  was  always  a  knotty  bit  of 
business,  and  to-day  doubly  so,  for  now  that  Lammy 


MRS.   LANE   PLAYS   DETECTIVE        99 

was  working  at  the  fruit  farm,  it  seemed  as  if  he 
fairly  moulted  buttons  and  shed  the  knees  and  seats 
of  his  trousers  as  crabs  do  their  shells.  Spreading 
a  well-worn  pair  of  knickerbockers  on  the  piazza 
floor,  she  trimmed  the  edges  of  the  holes  and  dived 
into  a  big  piece  bag  for  material  for  the  patches. 

"Seems  to  me  I  can't  find  two  bits  alike  and  I 
do  hate  to  speckle  him  up  all  colours  and  kinds  as 
if  he  was  a  grab-bag.  I  know  what  I'll  do  —  I'll 
put  in  what  I've  got  and  clip  down  to  the  store  for 
some  blue  jean,  and  run  him  up  a  couple  o'  pairs 
of  long  overalls  to  cover  him,  same  as  his  brother's 
and  Joshua's.  Wonder  I  didn't  think  of  'em  before, 
only  I  can't  realize  that  Lammy  is  big  enough  to  be 
at  work." 

A  man's  shadow  crossed  the  piazza.  Mrs.  Lane 
looked  up  quickly;  she  had  not  heard  the  gate 
click,  and  Twinkle,  who  kept  both  eyes  open  as  well 
as  ears  cocked  most  of  the  time,  was  down  at  the 
fruit  farm  with  Lammy. 

"  Buy  something  to-day .-'  Nice  goots,  ver'  cheap," 
said  a  voice  in  broken  English,  and  a  pedler  stood 
on  the  broad  step  and  swung  two  heavy  packs  down 
to  the  floor,  while  he  wiped  his  face  and  asked  if  he 
might  get  some  water  from  the  well. 

"Certainly,  'nless  you'd  prefer  milk,"  said  Mrs. 


100  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

Lane,  cheerfully,  for  she  was  naturally  cheerful  and 
generous,  unless  she  was  imposed  upon.  The  ped- 
ler,  a  foreigner,  had  a  full-moon  face,  that  looked 
both  young  and  tired,  two  things  that  always 
appealed  to  her,  besides  which  his  packs  were 
temptingly  fat,  and  she  had  a  weakness  for  pedlers. 
So  after  getting  the  milk,  she  leaned  back  in  her 
rocker,  folded  her  arms,  and  prepared  to  enjoy  the 
exhibition,  saying  in  the  same  breath :  "  I  don't  know 
as  I  care  to  buy.     What  have  you  got  ? " 

The  packs  contained  a  little  of  everything  in 
addition  to  the  usual  tinsel  jewellery  and  cheap  finery 
which  she  motioned  aside,  while  she  selected  half 
a  dozen  gingham  shirts,  the  overalls,  which  the  man 
assured  her  truthfully  were  only  what  the  goods 
would  cost  in  the  village,  and  some  stout  red  hand- 
kerchiefs. 

"You  don'd  need  trouble  vit  him,"  he  said,  point- 
ing to  the  tattered  trousers.  "  I  sells  you  somedings 
vot  you  can  make  down  schmall,"  said  the  pedler, 
growing  confidential  and  pulling  a  stout  pair  of 
long  pants  from  a  separate  compartment  in  his  pack. 
"  Only  a  dollar,  and  I  give  the  schentlemens  ninety 
cents  for  him,  —  yes,  I  did.  I  keep  dem  for  mine- 
self  if  I  home  vas  going,  but  I  joust  stard  out. 
Only  von  dollar,  and  only  von   leetle  place  broke." 


MRS.   LANE   PLAYS   DETECTIVE      loi 

"  I  don't  like  to  trust  to  buy  second-hand  clothes ; 
nobody  knows  what  kind  of  folks  have  wore  'em," 
objected  Mrs.  Lane,  yet  at  the  same  time  fingering 
the  substantial  goods  lovingly.  "Where  are  they 
tore.?" 

"  Here  it  vas,  joust  by  der  side  leg  ver  you  can 
schmaller  make  him,  and  so  help  me  gracious  it  vas 
no  dirdy  peoples  wore  dem.  It  vas  a  rich  mans  to 
sell  so  fine  a  pants  for  ninety  cents  for  such  a 
break.  Maybe  you  knows  him  alretty,  for  he  live" 
—  pointing  eastward  —  "in  a  big  what  you  call  red 
house  by  the  road  there  farther." 

"Slocum's!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Lane,  her  hands 
trembling  with  excitement. 

"Yes,  dat  vas  his  name.  You  take  de  pants, 
hein  ? " 

For  a  moment  Mrs.  Lane  was  silent,  examining 
the  rent,  for  the  trousers  though  bright  and  new 
were  of  the  same  brown  and  gray  herring-bone 
pattern  as  the  dingy  rag  she  had  brought  from  the 
cellar  window  of  the  burned  house. 

"  Yes,  I'll  take  'em.  They  cozi/d  be  cut  to  advan- 
tage, and  you  may  leave  me  a  box  of  that  machine 
cotton,  too ;  I'm  clean  out  Now,  pack  up  and  move 
on,  my  man ;  I've  got  to  see  to  supper." 

"  She  vas  very  glad  of  dose  pants,"  thought  the 


102  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

pedler  to  himself,  as  he  trudged  away,  smiling  at 
the  sales  he  had  made. 

Up  in  the  attic  Mrs.  Lane  presently  stood  by  a 
gigantic  cedar  chest,  the  lid  of  which  she  lifted 
with  difficulty,  next  the  top  tray.  In  the  one  below 
she  spread  the  pair  of  pants  to  the  torn  leg  of  which 
was  pinned  the  rag. 

**  It  does  seem  a  shame  to  lay  away  a  pair  of 
'Biram  Slocum's  pants  so  near  my  weddin'  shawl, 
but  so  must  it  be.  Well,  now,  there's  two  stitches  in 
the  garter  I've  set  up  to  knit  for  the  hobbling  of  'Bi 
Slocum's  pace;  the  third  stitch  will  be  to  show  why 
he  crawled  in  that  cellar  window  before  the  fire  for  he 
surely  didn't  do  it  after,  and  why  he  was  afeared  to 
let  his  wife  mend  his  torn  pants." 


VI 

BIRD'S   COUSINS 

On  the  night  of  Bird's  arrival  in  New  York  Jack  and 
Larry  O'More  were  late  for  supper.  In  fact  they  did 
not  come  in  until  she  had  gone  to  bed  on  the  "  exten- 
sion" lounge  in  the  parlour,  where  she  was  lying  with 
her  teeth  clenched  in  an  effort  to  keep  her  eyes  shut 
and  to  choke  down  the  nervousness  to  which  crying 
would  have  brought  the  quickest  relief.  If  Bird  could 
only  have  been  alone  in  the  dark  and  quiet  for  a  few 
hours,  it  would  have  been  much  easier  for  her  to  have 
overcome  her  great  disappointment.  But  in  the  cor- 
ner of  the  family  sitting  room,  amid  a  litter  of  sewing 
and  the  smell  of  pipe  smoke,  with  the  glare  and  noise 
of  a  busy  street  coming  in  the  two  small  windows, 
sleep  was  impossible.  Finally  her  aunt  closed  the  lid 
of  the  sewing-machine  with  a  bang,  tossed  her  work 
into  a  heap  in  the  corner,  and,  turning  out  the  gas, 
went  into  the  kitchen. 

There  were  six  rooms  in  the  flat,  all  quite  small. 
The  sitting  room  in  front  and  the  kitchen  in  the  rear 

103 


104  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

had  windows  that  opened  out,  above  the  three  bed- 
rooms clustered  round  an  air-shaft  that  was  like  a 
great  chimney  having  small  windows  let  into  it, 
through  which  even  at  noon  only  a  gray,  sunless  light 
entered,  and  the  air  had  no  freshness  but  was  full  of 
odours  and  noises  from  the  flats  above  and  below. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  O'More  occupied  the  room  next  to 
the  sitting  room,  Billy  sleeping  beside  them  on  a 
small  mattress  that  was  propped  up  nightly  upon  two 
chairs ;  for  when  the  bed  was  thus  made,  there  was  no 
room  to  move  about.  Jack  and  Larry  slept  in  the 
middle  room  which  had  a  door  into  the  hallway,  while 
the  third  room,  opening  out  of  the  kitchen,  had  been 
used  by  the  oldest  boy,  Tom,  before  he  had  taken 
wholly  to  wild  ways  and  drifted  off.  Now  it  was 
more  than  a  year  since  he  had  slept  there  and  it  was 
tightly  packed  with  broken  furniture,  old  boxes,  and 
various  kinds  of  trash  that  it  had  been  easier  to  throw 
in  there  than  to  dispose  of  in  any  other  way.  A 
small  bath-room  at  the  end  of  the  hall  was  littered  up 
in  much  the  same  way,  and  it  was  evident  that  no  one 
cared  for  bathing,  as  the  tub  was  used  as  a  cubby 
hole  for  pails,  a  mop,  broom,  and  the  wash  boiler  and 
board,  for  which  there  was  no  room  on  the  over- 
loaded fire-escape.  Still  Mrs.  O'More  felt  the  dig- 
nity of  having  a  bath-room,  for  it  stamped  her  home 


BIRD'S   COUSINS  105 

as  a  "flat,"  tenements  so  called  having  no  such 
luxuries. 

Presently  Bird  gave  up  all  idea  of  going  to  sleep  or 
even  of  closing  her  eyes,  and  do  her  best  she 
could  not  keep  from  hearing  the  conversation  that 
passed  between  her  aunt  and  uncle  in  the  kitchen,  for 
they  made  no  effort  to  lower  their  voices,  and  she  dared 
not  close  the  door  as  the  only  breath  of  air  that 
reached  little  Billy,  who  was  tossing  about  and  mut- 
tering in  his  sleep,  came  through  the  front  windows. 

After  hearing  herself  thoroughly  discussed  until 
her  cheeks  burned,  her  uncle  closed  with  the  remark, 
"  Well,  of  course  Terry  was  all  kinds  of  a  helpless 
fool,  but  he  shouldn't  be  blamed  for  it,  his  mother  was 
a  lady  out  of  our  class,  and  his  wife  too,  judging  from 
the  looks  and  ways  of  the  kid,  and  don't  you  forget  it, 
and  it  must  come  rough  to  her  to  be  shoved  about, 
anyhow." 

Then  a  new  resolve  came  to  Bird  from  the  rough 
but  well-meaning  words.  Her  grandmother  and  her 
mother  had  been  ladies,  —  she  would  not  forget  that 
any  more  than  she  would  forget  her  father's  wish 
that  she  should  learn  to  paint  and  win  the  success  that 
had  been  denied  to  him. 

Presently  the  subject  changed  and  she  heard  her 
aunt  speak  of  Tom  and  say  that  it  was  three  months 


io6  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

since  she  had  heard  from  him,  and  she  feared  he  was 
dead. 

"  I  hope  it  will  be  three  months  more,  then,"  O'More 
had  cried  with  an  oath  that  made  Bird  quiver  and  pull 
the  pillow  over  her  head,  but  she  was  obhged  to  take 
it  off  again  because  of  the  heat.  "  He  never  minds 
us  unless  he's  in  a  scrape,  or  there's  something  to  pay. 
But  he's  not  dead,  if  that's  any  comfort,  for  he  wrote 
to  me  two  weeks  gone,  saying  he  must  have  fifty 
dollars  or  leave  his  job,  and  I  wrote  him  that  he'd 
leave  it  for  all  of  me." 

"  And  you  never  told  me !  I  could  have  sent  him 
a  trifle ;  God  knows  what  he's  done  by  this,"  and  Mrs. 
O'More  covered  her  red  head  with  her  apron  and 
began  to  whimper. 

"  Look  here,  Rose  O'More,"  answered  her  husband, 
while  Bird  judged  by  the  jar  that  he  had  brought  his 
fist  down  on  the  table  with  a  bang,  "  that  scoundrel 
has  bled  you  long  enough ;  now  we  are  saving  up  to 
have  little  Billy  doctored,  and  I'll  not  see  you  rob 
yourself  and  him  for  that  other  that  we  gave  the  best 
of  everything,  and  he's  turned  it  to  the  worst,  even  if 
he  is  the  eldest  born.  If  I  were  you,  I'd  bank  the  bit 
o'  money  that  comes  in  from  the  sewin'  and  not  keep 
it  about  ye." 

"  The  top  drawer  of  the  bureau  is  bank  enough  for 


BIRD'S   COUSINS  107 

me.  The  sum  is  near  complete  to  buy  the  frame  for 
his  leg,  and  it  will  be  wanted  next  week  when  I  take 
Billy  to  the  doctor,  for  it's  to  his  own  house  he  shall 
go,  and  not  to  the  thing  they  call  the  "  chnk  "  at  the 
hospital,  to  be  stood  up  and  twisted  before  a  crowd  o' 
dunce  heads." 

So  Billy  was  to  go  to  a  doctor.  That  was  good 
news,  and  Bird  began  to  take  an  interest  in  life  again, 
for  Billy,  in  a  single  hour  had  crept  quickly  into  her 
sensitive,  motherly  little  heart,  and  with  her  to  love 
and  to  serve  were  one  and  the  same  impulse. 

Presently  two  new  voices  joined  the  conversation, 
knives  and  forks  rattled,  and  amid  pauses  she  heard 
scraps  of  conversation  muffled  by  food-filled  mouths, 
and  knew  that  they  were  talking  of  her.  Jack  and 
Larry  had  come  home  and  were  having  supper.  Jack, 
who  worked  in  an  office  by  day,  was  attending 
an  evening  school  of  type-writing  and  bookkeeping, 
while  Larry,  who  was  of  slight  build  and  whose 
ambition  was  to  be  a  jockey  and  ride  races,  was  kept 
late  on  the  track  where  he  was  serving  an  apprentice- 
ship as  handy  man  to  a  well-known  trainer. 

"  Where  is  she .-'  Let's  have  a  peek  at  her.  I  hope 
she's  pretty  if  I've  got  to  look  at  her  steady,"  said 
Larry,  who  prided  himself  on  his  eye  for  beauty,  and 
wore  plaid  clothes  and  wonderful   pink  and   green 


io8  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

neckties,  the  colours  of  the  stable  to  which  he  was 
attached,  and  thought  it  the  finest  thing  in  the  world, 
for  jockeys  are  often  as  loyal  to  their  racing  colours 
as  college  men  are  to  theirs. 

"  She  isn't  so  handsome  but  what  it'll  keep  until 
morning,  and  she's  dead  asleep  by  this.  Quit  yer 
noise,  all  of  ye ;  ye'll  wake  little  Billy,  and  he's  been 
that  fretful-  to-day  that  the  rasp  of  his  voice  would 
wear  through  an  iron  bar,"  Mrs.  O'More  added,  as 
the  three  burst  into  loud  laughter  over  some  tale  of 
track  happenings  that  Larry  told. 

Then  the  voices  dropped  to  a  hum,  and  then 
turned  to  the  song  of  the  bees  in  Mrs.  Lane's  hives, 
and  Bird  drifted  away  into  that  sleep  that  God  sends 
to  make  our  tired  bodies  and  minds  able  to  live 
together  without  quarrelling. 

Bird  slept  heavily  for  many  hours,  yet  to  her  it 
seemed  only  a  few  minutes  when  she  awoke  again, 
a  streak  of  light  shining  directly  across  her  face  and 
the  same  noises  coming  from  every  side.  This  time, 
however,  the  light  was  from  the  sun,  not  from  the 
gas,  and  .the  noises  were  fourfold,  for  there  is  noth- 
ing so  varied,  penetrating,  and  stunning  as  the  sound 
of  the  awakening  of  a  great  city  to  unaccustomed 
ears. 


BIRD'S    COUSINS  109 

For  a  few  moments  she  lay  quite  still,  gazing  about, 
and  trying  to  realize  where  she  was,  and  whether 
awake  or  asleep,  for  so  many  things  had  happened 
during  the  past  week,  that  it  all  seemed  like  a  bad 
dream. 

Not  many  days  before,  morning  light  brought  the 
hope  to  Bird  that  this  day  her  father  might  be  better ; 
only  the  day  before  she  had  waked  in  Mrs.  Lane's 
big  white  bed,  to  see  that  kind  soul  watching  beside 
her  and  Twinkle  had  come  racing  upstairs. 

Presently  it  all  came  back  to  her,  and,  getting  up, 
she  raised  the  shade  quietly,  for  no  one  else  was 
awake,  and  looked  down  into  the  street  in  which 
wagons  of  all  kinds  were  passing,  while  the  sidewalks 
were  already,  at  six  o'clock,  swarming  with  children, 
driven  into  the  air  as  early  as  possible  by  the  heat  of 
the  night.  Then  she  looked  about  for  her  clothes 
and  a  place  where  she  might  go  to  bathe  and  dress, 
for  the  small  rooms  were  all  open  through,  and  the 
lack  of  privacy  and  the  sight  of  the  flushed  disordered 
sleepers  was  a  fresh  jar  to  her. 

Finally  she  tiptoed  into  the  kitchen  where  a 
friendly  clothes-horse  offered  shelter,  and  managed 
to  make  herself  neat,  and  arranged  her  hair  at  a 
mirror  hung  over  the  kitchen  sink,  which  she  after- 
ward found  was   the  family  toilet  place ;   then  she 


no  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

stepped  out  on  to  the  fire-escape  where  there  was 
the  possibility  of  a  breeze. 

At  that  moment  she  heard  Billy's  querulous  little 
voice  wail,  "Oh,  I'm  so  tired  —  tireder  than  last 
night,  and  I  hurt  all  over,"  and  she  slipped  back 
through  the  hallway  into  the  front  room  again  to 
meet  her  aunt  who  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  parlour, 
gazing  at  the  empty  sofa  and  open  window  in  some 
alarm. 

"  Oh,  so  yer  up  and  dressed  betimes  and  not  fallen 
out  of  the  winder  through  sleep-walkin',"  she  said, 
not  unkindly.  "  Jack  has  turns  of  it  at  the  coming 
of  every  hot  weather,  and  he's  been  down  the  escape 
to  the  ground,  up  to  the  roof  and  every  place  he 
could  get,  so  it  gave  me  a  turn  when  I  missed  yer. 
Here,  I'll  just  throw  a  few  clothes  on  Billy  and  you 
can  take  him  down  to  the  street  for  a  mouthful  of  air, 
while  I  get  the  breakfast.  I'll  fetch  him  to  the 
doctor  to-day  if  it  does  put  back  my  sewin',  and 
see  if  I  can't  get  some  ease  for  him." 

"  Shall  I  wash  him  first  ? "  Bird  asked  quickly,  as 
his  mother  began  to  pull  and  jerk  at  his  clothes,  and 
then  stopped  short  as  she  saw  a  flash  in  her  aunt's 
eyes  that  told  her  that  she  must  be  careful  what 
she  said. 

"  Wash  him  this  time  of  the  morning  when  he's 


BIRD'S    COUSINS  iii 

scarce  awake,  and  have  him  all  tired  before  he  has  a 
bite  of  breakfast  ?  I  guess  not.  You  can  clean  him 
up  this  noon,  before  I  take  him  to  the  doctor's," 
and  Billy,  now  hopping,  now  stumbling  along  on  his 
little  crutch,  led  the  way  down  the  three  flights  of 
dark  stairs,  moving  carefully  from  step  to  step  so 
that  he  should  not  trip  in  the  holes  in  the  carpet 
with  which  they  were  covered. 

Once  in  the  street  Bird  was  at  the  same  time 
interested  and  confused  by  what  was  going  on  about 
her.  A  Jewish  fish  pedler,  with  much  wagging 
of  head  and  hands,  was  trying  to  sell  some  stale- 
smelling  flat-fish  to  a  woman  who  had  preceded 
them  downstairs.  Another  pedler,  with  a  push 
cart,  piled  high  with  cabbages,  radishes,  and  greens, 
went  into  one  of  the  houses  with  a  basketful  of  his 
wares  at  the  very  moment  that  a  big,  roan  truck-horse 
halted  with  his  soft,  inquisitive  nose  dangerously  near 
the  green  stuff.  First  he  sampled  a  bunch  of  radishes, 
but  these  were  too  hot  for  his  taste,  so  he  tried  a 
carrot  or  two,  and  mangled  fully  a  peck  of  spinach 
before  he  sniffed  the  cabbages.  At  these  he  gave  a 
whinny  of  delight  and  nosed  among  them  so  vigor- 
ously that  half  a  dozen  rolled  into  the  gutter,  and 
when  the  man  returned,  the  horse  had  started  back  a 
yard  or  so  in  fright  and  looked  guiltless  of  the  mis- 


112  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

chief,  and  the  pedler  ran  down  the  street  after  some 
suspicious-looking  boys.  Meanwhile  the  horse 
stepped  forward  and  nibbled  the  biggest  cabbage 
with  great  relish,  while  Billy  clapped  his  hands,  half 
a  dozen  other  children  cheered,  and  Bird  herself 
laughed  and  felt  glad  to  see  the  horse,  who  did 
not  look  overfat,  have  such  a  good  breakfast. 

For  if  Bird  loved  flowers  and  all  outdoors,  she 
loved  animals  still  more  even  if  she  did  not  know  it, 
but  the  other  children  did  not  think  of  the  horse  at 
all;  they  were  only  glad  because  it  had  outwitted 
the  pedler,  for  between  the  people  of  poorer  New 
York  and  the  push-cart  people  there  is  everlasting 
war.  This  lesson  Bird  learned  that  morning  before 
the  various  factories  in  the  neighbourhood  had  blown 
their  seven-o'clock  whistles. 

Another  thing  that  struck  her  sensitive  ear  was 
the  different  languages  that  were  spoken  by  the 
passers-by,  —  the  various  mixtures  of  slang  and  for- 
eign idioms  that  the  speakers  used  for  English  being 
almost  as  difficult  for  her  to  understand  as  the  Ger- 
man and  Italian. 

At  Laurelville,  to  be  sure,  people  spoke  in  two 
ways.  The  real  country  folk  had  a  vigorous,  if 
homely,  dialect,  such  as  the  Lanes  spoke,  while  Dr. 
Jedd,  the  minister,  and  her  father  and  mother  used  a 


BIRD'S   COUSINS  113 

purer  speech,  though  her  father  alone  had  the  soft, 
distinct  way  of  pronouncing  the  words  that  was  one 
of  Bird's  great  attractions. 

Little  Billy,  however,  was  quite  at  home  with  this 
street  language,  as  far  as  understanding  it  went,  but 
no  word  of  it  came  from  his  baby  lips,  strangely 
enough,  and  though  he  was  really  over  six  years  old, 
he  had  the  slight  frame  and  innocent,  open-eyed  gaze 
of  a  child  of  four,  and  he  was  entirely  "  different 
like  "  from  the  rest  of  his  family,  as  his  mother  said, 
and  it  provoked  her  as  if  the  fact  of  the  child's 
being  apart  from  her  own  rudeness  was  a  personal 
reproach. 

"  Hullo,  Billy,"  called  a  freckled,  lanky-looking 
girl  of  perhaps  fifteen,  —  reading  by  her  face,  though 
she  was  no  taller  than  Bird,  —  who  was  coming  across 
the  street  from  a  grocer's  carefully  carrying  a  bottle 
of  milk  as  if  it  was  a  rare  possession. 

"  Hello,  Mattie,"  he  answered  cheerfully,  hopping 
to  the  curb  to  meet  her.  "  Where've  you  been  ?  I 
thinked  you  moved  away." 

"  I've  been  working  all  of  two  weeks,  and  we 
moved  right  in  back  of  your  house  yesterday. 
We've  got  two  fine  rooms  now,  and  I  buy  Tessie 
a  bottle  of  milk  every  morning  now  my  own  self," 
she  said  proudly. 


114  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

"  Tessie's  legs  are  very  bad  again,  and  I  can't  get 
her  out  except  Sundays  when  mother's  at  home  to 
help,  but  she's  got  a  rocking-chair  and  she  can  ptill 
it  all  round  the  room  an'  see  up  out  the  winder  to 
your  'scape.  We  seen  you  sittin'  up  there  last  night. 
Who's  the  girl .'' "  she  added,  dropping  her  voice  as 
Bird  drew  near  to  Billy,  not  knowing  how  he  went 
about  alone  and  fearful  lest  he  should  fall. 

"  It's  Bird,  my  cousin  ;  she  came  last  night  from  the 
far-away  country,"  he  answered,  clinging  to  Bird's 
hand,  while  the  two  girls  looked  at  each  other, 
one  shyly  and  the  other  —  city  bred  and  quick- 
witted—  curiously,  noticing  at  once  the  plain  black 
gown. 

"  Come  to  visit  or  stop  ? "  she  asked  presently. 

"I've  come  to  stay,"  said  Bird,  slowly,  only  half 
realizing  the  truth  of  the  words. 

"  Father  dead .? " 

"Yes." 

"  Mother  living  ? " 

"No." 

"  Any  brothers  and  sisters  ? " 

"No." 

"Well,  that's  tough  luck,"  said  Mattie,  her  tone 
full  of  sympathy.  As  she  set  the  precious  bottle  on 
a  damp  spot  on  the  sidewalk,  so  that  her  hands  need 


BIRD'S   COUSINS  115 

not  heat  the  milk,  she  noticed  the  tears  in  Bird's 
eyes  and  changed  the  subject  quickly. 

"  Ain't  you  going  to  work  soon  ?  I've  got  a  good 
job  —  cash-girl  —  $3.50  a  week,  Saturday  afternoons 
off  all  summer;  'n,  if  I'm  smart  in  a  year,  I  can  get  to 
be  an  assistant  stock-girL  How  old  are  you,  any- 
how?    I'm  fifteen  and  over." 

"  I'm  thirteen  and  Uncle  John  is  going  to  send 
me  to  school  by  and  by;  he  says  that  it  closes 
too  soon  to  make  it  worth  while  this  term," 

"Yes,  you'll  have  to  go  until  you're  fourteen  or 
they'll  chase  you  up,  even  if  you  do  live  in  a  flat 
with  stair  carpet.  It's  too  bad,  though ;  you'd  have 
lots  more  fun  working." 

"  But  I  want  to  go  to  school  as  long  as  I  can," 
said  Bird,  smiling  at  Mattie's  mistake. 

"  Oh,  then  you  want  to  begin  in  an  office  type- 
writing or  keeping  sales  books.  I  don't  like  that; 
it's  too  slow  and  you  can't  see  the  crowd.  You'll 
have  a  daisy  time  this  summer,  though,  with  nothin' 
to  do  but  takin'  Billy  riding  in  trolleys  and  seein'  the 
town.  I'll  tell  you  all  the  parks  where  they  have 
music.  Billy's  pa  is  free  with  dimes  for  trolley  rides. 
Last  year,  before  my  pa's  falling  accident,  we  lived 
down  this  street,  and  when  Tessie's  legs  were  well 
enough,  Mr.  O'More  'd  often  give  me  a  quarter  to 


ii6  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

take  Billy  along  fer  a  ride.  You  can  ride  near  all 
day  fer  that,  if  you  know  how  to  work  the  transfers 
and  stick  up  fer  yer  rights." 

"  Was  your  father  badly  hurt  ? "  asked  Bird,  drawn 
to  this  stranger  by  a  common  chord. 

"Yes,  hurt  dead,"  she  answered,  in  a  matter-of- 
fact  tone  without  the  trace  of  a  tremble,  "  and  then 
pretty  soon  we  had  to  move,  and  we've  been  doin' 
it  most  ever  since,  so  I  kinder  lost  track  o'  Billy. 
You  see  mother  worried  sick  and  we  all  got  down  on 
our  luck,  but  now  she's  got  a  steady  job  to  do  scrub- 
bin'  at  the  Police  Court,  and  I've  got  a  job,  and 
we've  got  two  rooms  and  everything  is  all  hunky; 
that  is  'cept  Tessie's  legs,  but  some's  worse  than  her 
and  can't  even  sit  up." 

"  You  say  you  live  behind  us ;  which  house  is  it  ? 
Perhaps  I  could  see  your  sister  through  the  window," 
said  Bird,  somehow  feeling  reproached  at  Mattie's 
cheerfulness. 

"  It's  the  little  low  house  down  in  the  yard,  back 
of  yours,  that's  got  winders  that  stick  out  of  the  roof. 
Ours  is  the  top  middle  and  it's  got  blinds  to  it,  —  all 
the  winders  haven't, — and  they're  fine  to  draw-to  if 
it  rains,  'cause  you  don't  have  to  shut  the  window. 
It's  a  rear  building,  and  some  don't  like  'em,  and  of 
course  Tessie  would  rather  see  out  to  the  street,  but 


BIRD'S   COUSINS  117 

rents  come  so  high  and  rear  buildings  are  stiller  at 
night ;  that  is,  when  there's  not  too  many  cats. 
Were  rents  high  a  month  where  you  came  from  ? " 

"  I  don't  exactly  know,"  said  Bird,  trying  to  re- 
member. "  I  think  we  paid  ten  dollars,  but  we  had 
a  whole  house,  though  it  was  old,  and  a  garden,  and 
a  woodshed,  and  a  bam,  and  chickens.  Everybody 
lived  in  whole  houses  in  Laurelville,  even  though 
some  had  only  two  or  three  rooms." 

"  Ten  dollars  for  all  that,  and  we  pay  eight  for  two 
rooms!"  ejaculated  Mattie,  looking  hard  at  Bird  to 
see  if  she  was  in  earnest,  and,  seeing  that  she  was, 
quickly  grew  confidential,  and,  coming  close,  whis- 
pered :  "  Would  you,  may  be,  sometime  come  in  and 
tell  Tessie  about  it  and  the  garden  and  chickens } 
She's  read  about  the  country  in  a  book  she's  got,  — 
oh,  yes,  she  can  read ;  she's  twelve  and  went  to  school 
up  to  last  year,  for  all  she  isn't  much  bigger  'n  Billy 
—  but  she  can't  seem  to  understand  what  it's  just 
like  and  she's  cracked  after  flowers ;  the  man  in  the 
corner  market  gave  her  one  in  a  pot  last  year,  but 
it  didn't  live  long  because  we  hadn't  a  real  window 
that  opened  out  then.  Maybe  your  aunt  won't  let 
you  come  'cause  we  live  in  a  rear ;  my  mother  says 
she's  awful  proud ;  but  then,  most  anybody  would  be, 
living  in  a  whole  flat  with  bells  and  a  stair  carpet. 


ii8  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

"  Say,  Bird,"  she  continued,  after  a  moment's 
silence,  —  during  which  the  pedler  had  given  up 
chasing  the  boys,  rearranged  his  scattered  wares,  and 
plodded  patiently  on,  —  this  time  dropping  her  voice 
to  a  whisper  and  putting  her  lips  to  the  other's  ear, 
"if  yer  aunt  won't  let  yer  come  over,  maybe  you'd 
wave  to  Tessie  when  you  and  Billy's  takin'  the  air 
on  the  'scape.  I'll  tie  a  rag  to  our  blind  so's  you'll 
know  the  winder.  It  would  be  an  awful  lot  of  com- 
pany fer  her  daytimes  when  we're  out  to  have  some- 
body to  wave  to.  Yer  will  ?  I  believe  ye ;  somehow 
I  could  tell  in  a  minute  ye'd  be  different  from  the 
rest,"  and  giving  Bird  a  thump  on  the  back  expres- 
sive of  gratitude,  Mattie  picked  up  her  milk  bottle 
and  hurried  round  the  corner. 

A  shout  from  above  next  attracted  Bird,  and  look- 
ing up  she  saw  her  uncle  leaning  out  of  the  window 
and  calling  to  them  to  come  up  for  breakfast.  Billy 
could  hop  downstairs  quite  easily,  but  in  going  up 
he  was  obliged  to  crawl,  baby  fashion,  on  his  hands 
and  knees,  so  Bird  followed,  slowly  carrying  his  crutch. 

Her  uncle  and  cousins  were  already  seated  at  the 
table  when  the  pair  came  up,  both  rather  out  of 
breath.  Of  the  two  boys,  Larry  made  no  attempt  to 
rise  and  shake  hands,  but  stared  hard  at  Bird's  pale, 
clear-cut  face  and  neatly  brushed  almost  blue-black 


BIRD'S   COUSINS  119 

hair  and  lashes  that  made  her  violet-black  eyes 
darker  yet,  then  gave  a  quick  nod  in  which  recogni- 
tion and  approval  were  combined,  and  continued  his 
meal ;  while  Jack  got  up,  came  forward  pleasantly,  if 
with  the  very  flourishy  sort  of  manner  that  somehow 
always  reminds  one  of  the  pigeon  wings  and  squirrels 
in  old  fashioned  writing-books,  and  waved  her  to  a 
seat  between  himself  and  his  father  and  began  to  col- 
lect the  dishes  about  her  plate. 

"  Go  on  with  yer  eatin',''  said  Mrs.  O'More,  rather 
sharply,  as  if  resenting  the  attention.  "  Bird  can 
wait  on  herself,  —  she's  got  all  day  to  do  it  in  and 
it's  time  you  were  off.  Come  round  this  side  by 
Billy's  chair  so's  you  can  spread  his  bread ;  he's 
always  cuttin'  himself,"  she  added. 

The  food  was  plentiful  enough,  if  rather  coarse  in 
quality,  —  a  dish  of  oatmeal,  slices  of  head-cheese 
and  corn-beef  on  the  same  dish,  potatoes  sliced  cold 
with  pickled  cabbage,  a  bowl  of  hard-boiled  eggs, 
a  huge  plate  of  bread  with  a  big  pot  of  coffee,  still 
further  heating  the  close  room  from  its  perch  on  the 
gas  range.  But  the  table-cloth  was  soiled  and  tum- 
bled, and  Bird  saw  with  horror  that  her  uncle  wiped 
his  mouth  on  the  edge  of  it,  using  it  as  a  napkin, 
while  the  dishes  seemed  to  have  been  thrown  on 
without  any  sort  of   arrangement 


120  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

Not  feeling  hungry  herself,  she  began  to  cut  up 
some  meat  for  Billy,  who  fed  himself  awkwardly 
using  his  knife  instead  of  a  fork ;  but  Bird  did  not 
dare  say  anything,  and  in  a  few  minutes  his  appetite 
failed  and  he  sat  picking  holes  in  a  piece  of  bread, 
while  Bird  looked  at  the  heaped-up  plate  her  uncle 
pushed  toward  her  with  dismay,  yet  forced  herself  to 
eat  from  inbred  politeness. 

Larry  and  Jack,  having  finished,  pushed  back  their 
chairs,  and  hastily  filling  their  lunch-boxes  with  bread, 
meat,  and  eggs,  took  their  coats  from  the  rack  in  the 
narrow  hall  and  went  out,  Larry  calling,  "  So  long," 
as  he  went  downstairs,  but  Jack  turned  back  and 
said  pleasantly  to  Bird,  "  Good-by  till  night,  and  don't 
get  homesick.  Ladybird  !  " 

"Ladybird,  indeed,"  snapped  Mrs.  O'More,  "you 
needn't  bother  ;  she  can't  well  sicken  long  over  what 
she  ain't  got,"  at  which  unnecessarily  cruel  remark, 
that  made  Bird  stoop  lower  over  her  plate  and 
swallow  some  coffee  so  quickly  that  coughing  hid  her 
tears,  O'More  looked  up  and  said :  "  What's  wrong 
with  yer  to-day.  Rosy?  You've  no  call  to  hit  out 
when  nobody's  touchin'  yer." 

"What's  wrong?  What's  right,  I'd  like  you  to 
tell  me  ? "  she  flashed ;  "  me  with  a  lot  uv  sewin'  to 
do,  and  to  get  Billy  up-town  to  the  doctor's  by  ten." 


BIRD'S   COUSINS  121 

"  You  don't  do  that  tomfool  dressmakin'  with  my 
leave  and  consent,  I  can  keep  my  family  and  well, 
too,  if  you  weren't  so  set  on  robbin'  yerself  fer  Tom, 
who'll  land  himself  in  prison  yet  for  all  of  you,  if, 
please  God,  he  doesn't  drag  the  rest  of  us  along  with 
him." 

*'  I  can  wash  the  dishes  and  dress  Billy  if  I  may," 
said  Bird,  timidly,  feeling  the  tension  of  a  bitter 
quarrel  in  the  air. 

"Well,  you  may  try  it  for  onct,  but  look  to  it  you 
neither  smash  them  nor  make  him  cry;  there's 
days  he  near  takes  fits  at  the  sight  of  water.  Here's 
his  clean  suit,  and  I'll  just  go  and  finish  up  that  silk 
skirt,"  and  Mrs.  O'More  pulled  some  clothes  from  a 
comer  bureau  and  left  Bird  and  Billy  alone. 

"  Don't  you  worry  with  what  she  says,"  said 
O'More,  in  a  gruff  whisper,  pressing  Bird's  shoulder 
with  his  kindly  grasp.  "  Just  you  be  good  to  the 
little  feller  and  yer  Uncle  John  '11  stand  by  yer,  and 
maybe  ye'll  see  some  way  to  chirk  things  up  a  bit. 
I've  been  thinkin'  some  of  puttin'  a  bit  uv  an  awning 
out  on  the  'scape  to  keep  the  sun  off  him  while  he's 
takin'  the  air,  only  travellin'  so  much  I've  not  got  to 
it.  I'd  do  it  to-day,  only  I  must  go  to  the  yards  to 
unload  a  car  o'  horses.  To-morrer,  maybe,  I'll  stay 
around  home." 


122  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

"  Don't  you  want  any  breakfast,  Billy  ? "  Bird 
asked,  as  her  uncle  clumped  downstairs. 

"  No,  —  yes,  —  I'm  hungry,  but  I'm  tired  more,"  he 
answered,  laying  his  head  on  the  table. 

"  Suppose  I  wash  and  dress  you  first,  and  then  you 
can  go  out  on  the  piazza  and  eat  something  and  see 
if  you  can  spy  Tessie." 

"  Will  you  hurt  Billy's  bones  when  you  wash  him  ? 
Ma  always  does,"  he  added,  his  lower  lip  beginning  to 
quiver.  He  always  called  himself  by  name  and  often 
spoke  in  short  sentences  as  very  young  children  do. 

"  I'll  try  not  to ;  and  if  I  do,  you  must  tell  me  and 
I'll  stop  right  away." 

Bird  looked  about  the  room  to  see  what  she  could 
find  without  calling  her  aunt,  whose  very  presence 
seemed  to  irritate  Billy.  There  were  two  stationary 
wash-tubs  beside  the  range;  one  of  these  being 
empty,  she  proceeded  to  fill  it  half  full  of  water, 
making  it  comfortably  warm  by  aid  of  the  tea-kettle. 
Next  she  hunted  up  a  piece  of  soap  and  found  a 
towel  with  much  difficulty,  for  the  roller  towel  on 
the  kitchen  door  was  for  general  use. 

"  Come  and  play  duck  and  go  in  swimming,"  she 
said  to  Billy,  who  had  been  watching  her  with  interest 
as  she  overturned  a  pail  and  put  it  in  the  corner  of 
the  tub  for  a  seat. 


BIRD'S   COUSINS  123 

The  idea  struck  the  child's  fancy  so  completely 
that  he  could  hardly  wait  to  slip  out  of  his  few- 
clothes  and  be  helped  up  on  a  chair  and  then  into 
the  tub,  where  he  sat  comfortably  pouring  the  water 
over  himself  with  a  tea-cup,  and  chuckling  in  a  way 
that  would  have  warmed  his  father's  heart. 

Meanwhile,  Bird  gathered  the  dishes  together  in 
the  sink,  wiping  off  the  plates  with  bits  of  bread,  — 
as  she  had  done  ever  since  she  could  remember  and 
had  seen  her  mother  do  in  the  short  "better  days" 
when  they  had  a  pretty  home  and  her  mother  had 
always  herself  washed  the  best  china  in  the  inside 
pantry,  —  and  straightened  the  furniture  and  hung  up 
various  articles  that  littered  the  floor  so  that  there 
was  room  to  move  about.  By  this  time  Billy  was 
ready  for  drying,  which  Bird  did  so  gently  that  he 
did  not  even  wince,  for  she  had  ministered  to  her 
father,  seen  her  father  care  for  her  mother,  and  God 
had  given  her  the  best  gift  that  a  girl,  be  she  child  or 
woman,  can  have,  —  the  gift  of  loving  touch,  of  doing 
the  right  thing  almost  unconsciously  for  the  weak  or 
helpless. 

Billy,  clean,  refreshed,  with  his  bright  hair  brushed 
into  a  wreath  around  his  forehead,  sitting  in  his  little 
chair  on  the  fire-escape,  and  being  fed  with  bread 
and  milk  by  Bird,  who  talked  to  him  as  he  ate,  was 


124  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

a  different  being  from  the  crumpled  little  figure  that 
had  only  a  few  moments  before  looked  so  pathetic 
sitting  in  his  high-chair,  head  on  table. 

As  Bird  gave  him  the  last  morsel  and  wiped  his 
mouth,  he  leaned  backward  to  where  she  knelt  be- 
hind him  and,  clasping  his  arms  around  her  neck, 
pulled  her  head  down  to  him,  and,  nestling  there, 
whispered,  "  Billy  loves  Bird  very  much,  and  she 
must  stay  close  by  him  forever  'n'  ever,  won't 
she?" 

"  See,  that  must  be  Tessie's  window  down  there," 
she  said,  not  trusting  herself  to  answer  and  catching 
sight  of  a  white  rag  hanging  from  the  blind  of  a  low 
building  that  stood  in  the  rear  of  a  shop  that  fronted 
on  the  next  street.  It  was  an  old-fashioned,  two-story, 
wooden  house,  with  dormer  windows  in  a  roof  that 
had  been  once  shingled.  There  were  a  dozen  such 
in  Laurelville,  and  as  Bird  looked  at  it  she  wondered 
how  it  came  to  be  there,  built  in  on  all  sides,  and  if 
it  didn't  miss  the  garden  that  must  have  once  sur- 
rounded it. 

Then  as  she  looked  she  saw  the  outline  of  a  face 
inside  the  window.  It  was  so  far  down  and  across 
that  she  could  not  distinguish  the  features,  but  she 
waved  the  towel  she  held,  and  Billy  shook  his  hand. 
Presently  something  white  waved  back,  and  thus  a 


BIRD'S   COUSINS  125 

telegraph  of  love  and  sympathy  crossed  the  dreary 
waste  of  brick  and  clothes-lines,  and  put  the  three  in 
touch,  and  the  Bird,  who  had  been  taken  from  the 
country  wilds  and  put  in  a  city  cage,  and  the  two 
little  cripples  were  no  longer  alone,  for  even  at  these 
back  windows  there  was  some  one  to  wave  to  and 
respond. 

Mrs.  O'More  was  in  a  better  mood  when,  an  hour 
later,  having  finished  the  gown,  she  came  back  to  the 
kitchen  to  find  the  dishes  washed  and  set  away,  and 
Billy  sitting  contentedly  in  his  chair  throwing  crumbs 
to  try  to  coax  some  pigeons  that  lived  in  the  stable 
next  door  from  the  roof  to  the  fire-escape. 

"  I'll  take  him  up  to  the  doctor's  now,"  she  said  to 
Bird,  without  vouchsafing  any  remarks  upon  the  im- 
proved appearance  of  the  kitchen,  though  she  saw 
it  all.  "You  can  come  along  with  me  if  you  like, 
or  you  can  stop  here  and  look  about  and  rest  your- 
self a  bit.  There's  plenty  of  passing  to  be  seen  from 
the  front  room." 

Bird  said  she  thought  she  would  rather  stay  at 
home. 

"  Mind,  now,  and  lock  the  inside  hall  door  as  soon 
as  we've  gone  and  don't  let  anybody  in,  for,  in  spite 
of  the  catch  on  the  door  below,  there's  always  ped- 
lers  and  one  thing  and  another  pushing  up." 


126  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

After  Mrs.  O'More  had  left,  Bird  went  through 
into  the  sitting  room.  Seating  herself  by  the  window 
with  her  arms  on  the  sill,  she  looked  down  into  the 
street.  It  was  an  intensely  hot  day  in  spite  of  a 
breeze  that  blew  from  the  East  River ;  down  by  the 
pavement  the  mercury  was  cUmbing  up  into  the  nine- 
ties—  summer  had  come  with  a  jump.  Could  it  be 
only  a  week  ago  that  she  had  been  picking  long- 
stemmed,  purple  violets  by  the  brook  beyond  the 
wood  lot  at  Laurelville  ?  Was  it  only  day  before  yes- 
terday that  Lammy  had  brought  her  the  red  peonies, 
and  they  had  walked  up  the  hill  road  together  ? 

She  had  stayed  by  the  window  for  some  time,  per- 
haps half  an  hour,  watching  the  horses  that  were  led 
out  from  the  stable  to  be  cooled  by  spray  from  the 
hose  attached  to  the  hydrant  in  front,  when  a  sUght 
noise  in  the  kitchen  caused  her  to  turn.  The  light 
from  the  window  opening  on  the  fire-escape  was 
darkened,  and  a  man's  figure  showed  for  a  second  in 
outline  against  the  sky  and  then  swung  noiselessly 
into  the  kitchen. 

Bird's  first  impulse  was  to  scream,  but,  checking  it, 
she  shrank  trembling  behind  a  tall  rocking-chair  and 
watched.  The  man  glanced  about  the  kitchen  and 
came  directly  through  to  the  room  where  her  uncle 
and  aunt  slept.     It  did  not  seem  to  occur  to  him  that 


BIRD'S   COUSINS  127 

there  was  anybody  at  home,  though  Bird  did  not 
think  of  this  until  afterward. 

Pausing  before  the  bureau,  he  opened  the  upper 
drawer,  and,  after  passing  his  hand  rapidly  through 
the  clothing  it  contained,  drew  out  a  long  wallet, 
which  Bird  recognized  as  the  one  from  which  her 
aunt  had  taken  some  money  before  going  to  the  doc- 
tor's. Without  thinking  of  the  result  or  counting  the 
cost,  she  rushed  forward  and  caught  the  wallet  tight 
in  both  hands,  crying,  "You  mustn't  take  it,  you 
shan't ;  for  it's  the  money  to  pay  for  mending  poor 
Billy's  leg." 

The  man,  taken  utterly  by  surprise,  fell  back,  but 
only  for  a  moment,  and,  muttering  a  string  of  such 
words  as  Bird  had  never  before  heard,  seized  her  by 
the  shoulder  with  one  hand  while  he  tried  to  wrench 
the  pocket-book  from  her  with  the  other ;  but,  strong 
as  he  was,  this  took  several  minutes,  for  Bird  hung  on 
desperately,  clinging  to  his  arm  after  he  had  secured 
the  wallet,  until  finally  he  picked  her  up  bodily  and 
threw  her  on  to  the  bed,  and  before  she  could  recover 
herself,  locked  the  door  into  the  sitting  room,  and, 
taking  out  the  key,  did  the  same  to  the  door  into  the 
boys'  room,  through  which  he  retreated,  leaving  her 
a  prisoner,  for  the  window  into  the  air-shaft  was  high 
out  of  reach. 


128  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

As  Bird  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  sobbing  with 
fright  and  the  thought  of  what  the  loss  of  the  money 
might  mean  to  Billy,  noise  of  a  scuffle  reached  her 
ears  from  the  kitchen  and  the  locked  door  burst  open 
suddenly  as  it  had  closed,  pushed  by  a  strong  shoul- 
der, but  it  was  the  face  of  a  perspiring  policeman 
that  peered  through  the  crack. 

"  Catch  him,  oh,  do  catch  him ! "  she  implored;  "  he's 
got  the  money  from  Aunt  Rose's  drawer  that's  to  pay 
for  mending  Billy's  leg !  " 

"  He's  caught  safe  enough,  my  girl,  —  me  mate  has 
him  in  the  kitchen  and  the  money,  too,  though  he  did 
try  to  throw  it  over  the  yards  when  we  grappled  him. 
You  see  there's  been  a  slew  of  these  daylight  thieves 
around  these  parts  lately,  sneaking  over  roofs  and 
down  escapes  when  folks  are  at  work.  We  spotted 
this  one  goin'  through  the  saloon  on  the  corner  and 
in  among  the  skylights,  and  we  followed  but  lost 
track,  for  he  has  another  wallet  lifted  besides  this 
one,  and  if  he'd  slid  out  a  minute  sooner,  we'd  have 
lost  him." 

"Then  holding  on  did  some  good,  after  all,"  Bird 
gasped,  still  standing  with  tightly  clasped  hands  as  if 
she  were  holding  the  precious  money  in  them. 

"  An'  did  yer  grab  him,  now  ?  Look  at  that  fer 
pluck,  —  it's  a  wonder  he  didn't  smash  yer  entirely. 


BIRD'S    COUSINS  129 

Come  out  and  take  a  look  at  him ;  maybe  ye  can  tell 
did  ye  see  him  before." 

Bird  looked,  but  the  young  man  was  a  stranger  to 
her.  He  did  not  appear  to  be  more  than  twenty,  and, 
as  they  led  him  away,  handcuffed  to  an  officer,  he 
pulled  his  hat  so  low  over  his  face  that  the  crowd 
that  gathered  and  followed  as  soon  as  the  street  was 
reached  could  not  see  his  features,  or  if  he  was  old 
or  young. 

Bird  gave  the  officer  her  uncle's  name,  and  he  said : 
"  When  he  comes  in,  tell  him  to  come  round  to  the 
station-house  and  he'll  get  his  money  all  right.  I've 
got  to  take  it  in  as  evidence."  The  street  was  hardly 
clear  again  of  the  curious  crowd  when  the  twelve- 
o'clock  whistle  sounded  and  workmen  appeared  from 
all  quarters,  either  with  pails  to  eat  their  dinners  in 
the  shade  of  the  house  fronts,  or  on  the  way  to  their 
various  homes. 

Mrs.  O'More  and  her  husband  —  for  he  had  been 
watching  for  their  car  —  came  up  the  street  together, 
little  Billy  between  them,  and  it  was  strange  that  they 
did  not  meet  the  policemen  with  their  prisoner.  Bird 
was  watching  eagerly  for  them,  and,  after  hearing 
their  news, —  that  the  doctor  said  it  was  possible  to 
help  the  lame  leg,  only  that  Billy  must  grow  stronger 
before  it  could  be  done,  —  told  them  hers. 


130  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

Both  listened  eagerly.  Her  uncle  said,  "  Ycr  pluck 
does  credit  to  the  O' Mores,  but  did  ye  mind  the 
villain's  face  what  it  was  like?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Bird  answered  excitedly,  "  it  was 
smooth  and  fair,  and  he  had  very  blue  eyes  with  a 
long  scar  over  one,  and  his  hair  was  quite  red." 
Glancing  at  her  aunt,  she  saw  that  she  had  turned 
deadly  pale,  and  a  certain  resemblance  struck  her  for 
the  first  time. 

"God  help  us,  —  it's  Tom  come  back  to  rob  his 
own  mother,"  gasped  poor  John  O'More. 

"  But  you'll  not  appear  against  him,  John,"  cried 
his  wife,  throwing  her  arms  around  him  as  he  seized 
his  hat  and  turned  to  go  out. 

"I  can't,  woman,  I  can't;  but  maybe  it'll  do  no 
good.  I  must  go  round  to  the  station  and  get 
the  wallet  and  see  to  this,  anyway." 

And  Bird,  after  laying  Billy  on  the  lounge  for  a 
nap,  sat  by  her  aunt,  —  who,  while  waiting  to  hear 
the  outcome,  had  collapsed  and  was  crying  noisily, — 
and  tried  to  take  off  her  tight  waist  and  bathe  her 
face,  and  she  realized  that  there  were  even  worse 
griefs  than  leaving  one's  home  and  father,  for  surely 
dear  Terry  was  safe  beyond  all  harm  now. 


VII 

SUMMER  IN   NEW  YORK 

The  arrest  of  Tom  O'More  threw  the  matter  of 
little  Billy's  leg  into  the  background  for  a  time. 
When  the  father  had  gone  to  the  court  where  his  son 
was  arraigned,  he  found  that  not  only  was  there  an- 
other charge  against  him,  but  that  all  unknown  to  his 
family  he  had  committed  petty  thefts  in  other  places, 
and  had  already  what  the  police  call  "  a  record,"  so 
that  he  had  to  go  to  the  penitentiary  for  a  year,  and 
John  O'More,  feeling  his  disgrace  keenly,  for  though 
he  was  a  rough  man  and  coarse  in  many  ways  he 
was  as  honest  as  the  day,  turned  doubly  to  little  Billy, 
and  could  not  bear  to  have  him  out  of  his  sight  when 
he  was  at  home. 

The  doctor's  orders  concerning  Billy  had  been 
short  and  clear,  but  it  was  fully  a  week  after  the 
visit  before  his  mother  could  pull  herself  together  or 
even  think  of  carrying  them  out,  and  then  when 
O'More  took  a  day  at  home  and  had  leisure  to  ask 
for  details,  she  began  by  saying  that  what  the  doctor 

131 


132  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

had  ordered  to  get  the  child  in  condition  for  treat- 
ment was  nonsense,  and  only  to  be  had  by  rich  folks. 

"  Well,  well,  woman,  let's  hear  and  get  to  the  core 
o'  the  matter,"  said  John  O'More,  tired  of  the  con- 
tinual word  warfare. 

"  He's  to  have  a  real  bed  and  no  shake-down,  so's 
he  can  stretch  out  and  roll  about,  and  it's  to  be  in  a 
room  opening  to  the  Hght  where  he  can  lie  quieter  by 
himself  an  hour  or  so  every  day.  Then  he's  to  get  a 
full  bath  every  morning  and  a  light  meal,  and  fresh 
meat  at  noon,  and  a  bite  and  sup  between  that  at  sup- 
per, and  the  between  times  filled  in  with  air  and  a 
bottle  o'  tonic,  and  the  saints  knows  what  else. 

" '  Do  yer  think  I  keep  a  'ospital  to  do  all  them 
things,'  sez  I  to  the  doctor. 

" '  No,'  he  answers  quick  like,  '  and  for  that  reason 
I  think  it  will  pay  you  best  to  send  him  to  the  'ospital 
to  get  him  built  up.' 

"  *  His  father  will  not  hear  to  it,'  I  said. 

" '  Very  well,  then,'  said  he,  '  you  know  what  / 
think;  go  home  and  talk  it  over.'" 

So  John  O'More  sat  and  thought  and  blinked  at 
the  ground,  and  thought  some  more,  but  it  was  Bird 
who  first  spoke,  though  very  hesitatingly,  for  her 
aunt  resented  almost  everything  she  said,  and  in  her 
ignorance  and  prejudice  seemed   to   owe  poor  Bird 


SUMMER   IN   NEW   YORK  133 

a  grudge  as  being  partially  responsible  for  Tom's 
arrest,  rather  than  showing  any  gratitude  toward  her 
for  trying  to  prevent  the  theft  of  the  money. 

"  Couldn't  Billy  have  a  bed  in  the  little  room  that 
was  —  that  is  shut  up?"  she  asked  finally.  "The 
door  is  close  to  the  kitchen  window,  and  a  good  deal 
of  air  would  come  in." 

"It's  packed  solid  full,  and  besides  the  room  is 
off  from  me,  so's  I  couldn't  hear  the  child  to  tend 
him  in  the  night  if  needs,"  objected  Mrs.  O'More, 
somewhat  hotly. 

"  Couldn't  the  things  be  put  in  the  attic  or  some- 
where ? "  persisted  Bird,  seeing  a  flash  of  approval 
cross  her  uncle's  face,  "and  then  there  would  be 
room  for  two  beds,  and  I  could  stay  with  Billy  and 
give  him  his  bath  every  morning." 

"  Attic !  do  you  hear  her  ? "  mocked  the  aunt, 
"  and  a  fine  slop  there'd  be  in  me  kitchen,  and  a  nice 
place  for  folks  to  eat  breakfast,  with  the  bath." 

"  If  the  things  were  taken  out  of  the  bath-tub  we 
could  use  that,"  continued  Bird,  waxing  bold  at  the 
prospects,  "and  I'm  sure,  Aunt  Rose,  it  would  be 
much  nicer  for  you  to  have  the  parlour  to  yourself, 
and  not  have  to  make  me  a  bed  there  every  night." 

"  That  last  is  true ;  I've  been  greatly  put  out  these 
days  when  company  called,"  the  company  being  the 


134  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

slipshod  factory  girls  for  whom  she  did  sewing,  but, 
as  often  happened,  Bird  had  unconsciously  said  the 
one  thing  that  could  have  appeased  her  aunt,  for  only 
when  something  was  suggested  that  would  benefit 
herself  was  she  willing  to  have  others  considered. 

"The  tub  is  full  of  holes,  and  the  agent  he  won't 
mend  it,  saying  that  I  made  them  with  the  ice-pick, 
when  for  convenience  I  used  that  same  tub  for  an 
ice-box,  me  own  givin'  out." 

"  If  that's  all,  a  bit  o'  solder  is  cheap,"  said  O'More, 
springing  to  his  feet,  and  preparing  to  take  action. 

"  I've  the  day  on  mc  hands,  and  a  few  extry  dollars 
in  me  pocket,  and  if  something  can't  be  worked  out 
o'  this,  'twon't  be  my  fault;  and  while  I  recommem- 
ber  it,  I  think  you'd  be  the  better  of  a  new  hat,  Rosie, 
and  while  yer  out  buy  in'  it,  jest  step  in  the  store, 
round  on  Third  Avenue  and  get  two  o'  them  light- 
lookin',  white  iron  beds;  they're  cheap,  for  I  saw 
yesterday  when  passin*  that  they  be  havin*  a  bargain 
sale  of  them,"  and  John,  with  the  quick-witted  diplo- 
macy of  his  race,  handed  his  wife  some  money  which 
she  took,  and,  half  mollified,  at  once  prepared  to  go 
out,  instructing  Bird  to  "  do  up  the  rooms  "  while  she 
was  gone. 

The  door  had  not  fairly  closed  when  O'More  gave 
a  shout  that  almost  frightened  Bird,  and  said :  "  Now 


SUMMER   IN   NEW   YORK  135 

we'll  do  some  hustlin' ;  there's  no  attic,  me  girl,  but 
there's  the  coal-closet  in  the  cellar  which  is  empty, 
now  that  we  use  gas  in  the  range.  Half  the  stuff  is 
but  fit  for  the  ashman,  and  the  rest  I'll  bundle  down 
there  quick  as  I  get  a  man  from  the  stable  to  help. 
Now  watch  sharp  whilst  I  put  the  truck  out  and 
see  if  there's  aught  yer  can  use." 

When  the  room  was  finally  cleared,  a  mirror,  a 
chair,  and  a  small  chest  of  drawers  were  the  only  use- 
ful assets,  and  these  Bird  pulled  into  the  kitchen, 
while  she  dusted  and  wiped  away  at  them  until  they 
looked  clean,  even  if  somewhat  shabby. 

Returning  from  the  cellar  O'More  (in  his  youth  a 
handy  man  in  a  stable)  attacked  the  dust  in  the  little 
room  with  broom,  mop,  and  finally  a  scrubbing-brush 
to  such  good  purpose  that  in  an  hour  it  was  quite 
another  place,  for  the  walls  fortunately  had  been 
painted  a  light  cream  and  were  in  fairly  good  condi- 
tion. 

If  John  O'More  had  been  asked  to  go  down  on  his 
knees  and  scrub  a  room,  he  would  have  resented  the 
work  as  an  insult  to  his  manhood,  but  love  had  set  the 
task.  Little  Billy,  sitting  there  in  his  chair,  his  face 
all  eagerness,  needed  the  room,  and  so  he  did  the 
work  as  nonchalantly  as  he  would  have  stepped  into 
the  stable  and  curried  a  horse  in  a  hurry  time.     It 


136  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

was  only  when  Bird  clapped  her  hands  in  admiration 
and  said,  "  Why,  uncle,  how  nice  and  quick  you  did 
that ;  Dinah  Lucky  would  have  taken  a  whole  day," 
that  he  became  embarrassed,  and,  giving  her  an 
apologetic  wink,  said  with  lowered  voice,  "  It's  a  job 
well  done,  but  whist!  'tis  not  for  the  good  of  my 
health  to  be  repeated,"  and  Bird  understood  and 
wondered,  as  she  did  a  hundred  times  during  that 
long  summer,  why  she  always  understood  her  uncle 
and  he  her,  while  life  with  her  aunt  seemed  one 
long  misunderstanding. 

A  plumber,  living  in  the  flat  below,  came  up  in  the 
noon  hour  and  soldered  the  holes  in  the  tub,  which 
O'More  declared  to  be  too  black  even  for  a  pig's 
trough,  so  hd  sped  out  around  one  of  those  many 
"corners,"  of  which  at  first  Bird  thought  the  city 
must  be  made,  for  a  quart  of  boat  paint  and  a  brush. 

"Yer  aunt  must  be  havin'  a  hard  time  with  her 
tradin*,"  he  remarked  on  his  return,  seeing  that  his 
wife  had  not  come  back  to  prepare  dinner.  But 
just  as  Bird  had  spread  the  table  with  various  arti- 
cles of  cold  food,  whose  abiding-places  she  very 
well  knew,  and  was  making  Billy  some  little  sand- 
wiches to  coax  him  to  eat  meat  for  which  he  had  a 
distaste,  Mrs.  O'More  came  in,  talkative  and  almost 
pleasant  as  the  result  of  her  morning's  bargaining. 


Bird  and  Billy  on  the  Fire-escape. 


SUMMER   IN   NEW  YORK  137 

Before  night  two  narrow  beds  were  carefully  fitted 
into  opposite  sides  of  the  little  room,  with  the  chest  of 
drawers  set  between,  in  front  of  the  now-closed  door 
that  led  to  the  boys'  room,  with  the  looking-glass  hung 
above  it.  It  was  only  a  bit  of  a  place  and  still  very 
close  and  stuffy,  but  Billy  and  Bird  had  at  least  beds 
of  their  very  own,  if  only  in  a  niche  apart,  and  Bird's 
heart  took  fresh  courage. 

The  next  step  was  to  coax  her  uncle  to  fill  some 
long  boxes  with  earth  and  set  them  inside  the  outer 
railing  of  the  fire-escape.  There  is  a  law  against 
filling  up  these  little  balconies  with  boxes  or  furni- 
ture of  any  kind,  but  Bird  knew  nothing  about  it, 
and  her  uncle  regarded  it  as  a  sort  of  tyranny  that 
he,  a  free-born  citizen,  should  disregard.  All  Bird 
thought  of  was  that  she  might  plant  morning-glory 
seeds  in  the  earth  so  they  would  climb  up  the  strings 
she  fastened  to  the  next  story,  and  later  on  there  was, 
in  truth,  a  little  bower  blooming  above  that  arid  waste 
of  bricks  and  ashes. 

After  the  new  room  was  arranged,  and  permission 
given  to  Bird  to  see  that  Billy  had  what  the  doctor 
ordered  that  he  should  eat,  and  to  take  him  out  when- 
ever he  wanted  to  go,  everything  began  to  move  more 
regularly  and  in  some  respects  more  comfortably,  then 
Bird,  to  her  dismay,  saw  the  city  summer,  like  a  long 


138  AUNT   JIMMY'S  WILL 

roadway  without  a  tree  or  bit  of   shade,  stretching 
out  before  her. 

There  was  not  a  book  in  the  house  and  no  one  to 
tell  her  of  the  free  library  where  she  might  get 
them,  and  school,  where  she  hoped  to  find  a  sympa- 
thetic teacher  for  a  friend,  belonged  to  September 
three  months  away.  No  one  who  has  always  lived 
in  the  city  can  possibly  understand  what  this  change, 
with  its  confinement  and  lack  of  refined  surround- 
ings, meant  to  this  young  soul.  To  be  poor,  in  the 
sense  of  having  little  to  spend  and  plain  food,  she 
was  accustomed,  —  in  fact,  she  had  much  more  to 
eat  now,  and  through  her  uncle's  careless  kindness 
she  was  seldom  without  dimes  for  the  trolley  rides 
to  Battery  Park  "  where  the  fishes  lived,"  or  Central 
Park  with  the  swan-boats  that  were  to  "make  a 
man"  of  Billy.  But  to  be  shut  away  from  the  woods, 
the  sky,  the  beauty  of  the  sunsets,  to  have  no  flowers 
to  gather  and  love,  and  to  be  brought  face  to  face 
daily  with  all  the  ugliness  of  the  life  that  is  merely 
of  the  body,  was  almost  too  much  for  her  courage. 

How  could  she  keep  her  head  above  the  street 
level,  how  remember  what  her  father  had  taught 
her  ?  —  already  the  memory  of  the  past  was  becom- 
ing confused.  Sometimes  she  was  on  the  verge  of 
ceasing    to    try   and    settling    down    into   a    silent 


SUMMER   IN   NEW   YORK  139 

drudge,  content  to  take  what  came,  and  falling  into 
the  habits  and  commonplace  pleasures  of  the  girls 
of  her  cousins'  acquaintance  with  whom  she  was 
thrown  in  the  parks  and  on  the  stoop  and  streets. 
It  would  have  been  much  easier  in  some  respects,  — 
her  aunt  would  have  been  better  pleased  to  see  her 
go  off  with  the  others,  to  some  noisy  if  harmless 
excursion,  arrayed  in  a  cheap,  flower-wreathed  hat 
and  gay  waist,  shrieking  with  laughter,  and  chewing 
gum,  than  to  see  her  always  neat  amid  disorderly 
surroundings  and  ever  willing  to  do  the  endless 
little  tasks  th'at  her  own  mismanagement  piled  up, 
and  Ladybird  —  Jack's  name  for  her — strangely 
enough  seemed  a  term  of  reproach,  not  compliment. 

At  first  Bird  had  hoped  that  Sunday  might  bring 
better  things ;  but  no,  Sunday  in  the  quiet,  peaceful, 
Protestant  sense  that  Bird  understood  it,  —  there  was 
none.  The  family  straggled  to  early  mass  one  by 
one,  for  Mrs.  O'More  and  her  sons  were  Romanists, 
though  O'More  was  not,  being  from  the  north  of 
Ireland,  and  the  rest  of  the  day  was  spent  by  the 
men  either  lying  in  bed  and  smoking,  or  standing 
in  groups  about  the  street. 

In  these  hard  days  little  Billy  was  Bird's  only  ray 
of  light.  The  two,  being  of  equally  sensitive  natures, 
clung  together,  and  the  child  was  so  happy  in  his 


140  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

new-found  friend  and  ceased  his  incessant  fretting 
whenever  he  was  with  her,  that  Mrs.  O'More  at  last 
gave  him  completely  to  Bird's  charge  with  a  sigh  of 
relief,  for  her  youngest  child  was  as  much  a  puzzle 
to  her  as  her  niece,  and  she  felt  that  he  also  was  of 
a  different  breed,  as  it  were,  and   it   annoyed    her. 

All  the  fierce  scorching  summer  days  Bird  and  Billy 
wandered  about  together,  sometimes  going  over  to 
Madison  Square,  sometimes  riding  in  the  trolley  to 
Central  Park,  but  more  often  down  to  the  Battery 
where  the  air  tasted  salt  and  good,  where  the  wonder- 
ful fishes  lived  in  the  round  house  and  the  big  ships 
went  past  out  to  that  unknown  sea  of  which  Bird  was 
so  fond  of  telling  Billy  stories. 

Bird,  too,  soon  learned  to  find  her  way  about,  for 
six-year-old  Billy  had  all  the  New  York  gamin's 
knowledge  of  his  whereabouts  coupled  with  a 
cripple's  acute  senses.  He  hopped  along  with  his 
crutch  quite  well,  and  many  a  lesson  in  human 
nature  and  life  did  Bird  learn  these  days  in  the  tree- 
less streets  of  poorer  New  York. 

After  a  time  she  found  that  her  uncle  had  seemed 
to  forget  his  hatred  of  anything  like  drawing  or 
painting,  so  one  day  she  ventured  to  buy  a  good- 
sized  pad  and  pencil,  and  then  watching  Bird  "  make 
pictures"  became  Billy's  great  joy,  while  she  to  her 


SUMMER   IN   NEW  YORK  141 

surprise  found  that  she  could  draw  other  things 
besides  flowers. 

Oftentimes  the  children  would  go  down  to  sit  on 
the  steps  and  watch  the  horses  from  the  great  sales 
stable  being  exercised  up  and  down  the  street.  Bird 
tried  to  draw  these  too,  and  one  day  succeeded  so 
well  that  her  uncle,  passing  in  at  the  door,  stopped 
and  looked  down,  and  then  said,  "  Bully !  any  one 
would  know  it  for  a  horse,  sure ! "  After  that  she 
worked  at  every  odd  minute. 

She  loved  horses  dearly,  but  she  and  Billy  were 
forbidden  to  go  into  the  stables,  which  were  almost 
underneath  the  flat,  and  Bird  really  had  no  wish  to, 
for  the  men  there  were  so  rough  and  there  was  so 
much  noise  and  confusion ;  but  a  few  doors  away 
was  a  fire-engine  house  where  lived  three  great, 
gentle,  gray  horses  that  ran  abreast,  and  had  soft 
noses  that  quivered  responsively  when  they  saw 
their  driver  even  in  the  distance.  Bird  made  friends 
with  these,  taking  them  bits  of  bread  or  green  stuff, 
until  the  firemen  came  to  expect  the  daily  visit  and 
"  Bird "  and  "  Billy  "  became  familiar  names  in  the 
engine-house ;  and  there  was  a  little  dog  there  that 
ran  with  the  engine  and  reminded  her  of  Twinkle. 
,  Dan  was  the  heaviest  of  the  three  horses  and 
Bird's  favourite,  and  one  day,  after  many  attempts, 


142  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

seated  on  the  stoop  of  the  next  house,  she  suc- 
ceeded in  drawing  a  small  head  of  him  that  was 
really  a  good  likeness,  at  least  so  the  firemen 
thought,  for  they  put  it  in  a  frame  and  hung  it  in 
the  engine-house,  and  the  next  day  big  Dave  Mur- 
ray, Dan's  driver,  gave  her  a  small  box  of  paints 
"with  the  boys'  compliments." 

Ah,  if  the  big,  bluff  fellow  only  knew  what  the 
gift  meant  to  poor  little  Ladybird  struggling  not 
to  forget  and  to  still  keep  the  heavenly  vision  in 
sight. 

Bird  had  written  a  short  note  to  Mrs.  Lane  telling 
of  her  safe  arrival  in  the  city,  and  giving  her  address, 
but  more  than  that  she  could  not  say.  If  she  said 
that  she  was  happy  and  gilded  the  account  of  her 
surroundings,  it  would  have  been  false.  If  she  told 
the  truth,  her  Laurelville  friends  would  be  distressed, 
and  it  would  seem  like  begging  them  to  take  her  back 
when  it  evidently  was  not  convenient,  for  she  did 
not  know  that  her  Uncle  John  had  refused  to  let 
her  stay  with  Mrs.  Lane  unless  she  was  legally 
adopted. 

Neither  was  Bird  worldly  wise  enough  to  act  a 
part  and  simply  write  of  her  visits  to  the  park  and 
the  little  excursions  with  Billy  which  in  themselves 
were  pleasant  enough.     She  was  crystal  clear,  and 


SUMMER   IN   NEW   YORK  143 

knew  of  but  two  ways,  either  to  speak  the  whole 
truth  or  keep  silent.  She  was  too  loyal  to  those 
whose  bread  she  was  eating  to  do  the  first,  and  so 
she  did  not  write. 

In  due  time  a  long  letter  came  from  Lammy 
written  with  great  pains  and  all  the  copy-book 
flourishes  he  could  master,  telling  of  Aunt  Jimmy's 
strange  will,  of  how  he  was  going  to  work  all  sum- 
mer at  the  fruit  farm,  and  ended  up  by  telling  her 
of  the  preparations  he  had  made  for  the  Fourth, 
never  dreaming  it  possible  that,  the  matter  of 
tickets  disposed  of.  Bird  should  refuse  his  invitation. 

At  first  the  thought  of  getting  away  from  the 
city,  and  being  among  friends  again  quite  overcame 
her.  She  began  to  wonder  if  Twinkle  would  be 
glad  to  see  her,  and  if  the  ferns  met  over  the  brook 
as  they  did  last  year,  and  if  Mrs.  Lane  would  have 
the  white  quilt  on  the  best-room  bed,  or  the  blue- 
and-white  patch  with  the  rosebuds.  Then  she 
realized  that  if  she  met  the  Laurelville  people  face 
to  face,  she  would  surely  break  down,  while  the 
saying  "good-by"  again  would  be  harder  than 
not  going.  Then,  too,  there  was  little  Billy.  How 
could  she  leave  him  at  the  very  time  when,  in  spite 
of  continued  hot  weather,  he  seemed  to  be  gaining  ? 

No  —  she  sat  down  resolutely  and  wrote  a  short 


144  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

note  that  wrung  her  heart  and  kissed  it  passionately 
before  she  mailed  it,  for  was  it  not  going  to  the 
place  that  now  seemed  like  heaven  to  her? 

But  the  letter  that  arrived  as  the  Lanes  sat  on 
porch  after  supper  said  no  word  of  all  this,  and 
seemed  but  a  stiff,  offish  little  note  to  warm-hearted 
Mrs.  Lane  and  Lammy  who,  having  now  quite 
earned  the  ticket  money,  was  cut  to  the  quick  when 
he  found  that  it  was  all  in  vain. 

"She's  gone  to  the  city  and  forgotten  us,"  he 
gulped  in  a  quavering  voice,  as  he  read  the  letter, 
coming  as  near  to  letting  a  tear  run  down  his  nose 
as  a  sturdy  New  England  boy  of  fourteen  could 
without  losing  his  self-respect. 

"  It  doos  appear  that  way,"  said  Mrs.  Lane,  who 
was  gazing  straight  before  her  out  of  the  window 
with  an  abstracted  air ;  "  but,  after  all,  what's  in  ap- 
pearances, Lammy  Lane }  Don't  your  copy-book 
say  that  they  are  deceitful.?  Well,  that's  what  I 
think  of  'em.  Likely  'nough  it  appears  to  Bird 
that  I  didn't  want  to  keep  her,  'cause  owing  to  this 
other  mix-up,  I  couldn't  divide  the  share  of  you 
boys  without  thinking  it  over,  and  'dopt  her  then 
and  there.  But  my  intentions  and  them  appear- 
ances is  teetotally  different. 

"  No,  Lammy,   I'm   goin'  straight  on  lovin'   Bird 


SUMMER   IN  NEW   YORK  145 

and  trustin'  her  and  keepin'  a  place  in  my  heart 
for  her,  besides  havin'  the  best-room  bed  always 
aired  and  ready,  and  jest  you  keep  on  lovin'  and 
trustin'  her,  too,  and  like  as  not  the  Lord  will  let 
her  know  it  somehow,  for  I  do  believe  kind  feel- 
ings is  as  well  able  to  travel  without  wires  to  slide 
on  as  this  here  telegram  lightnin'  that  hollers  to 
the  ships  that's  passin'  by  in  the  dark.  'Think 
well  and  most  things  '11  come  well,'  say  I." 

"  How  about  Aunt  Jimmy's  will  ?  Yer  always 
thought  well  enough  o'  her,"  said  Joshua,  who  had 
laid  down  his  paper  and  folded  his  spectacles  to 
listen  to  the  reading  of  the  letter. 

"An'  I  do  still,"  Mrs.  Lane  averred  stoutly;  "it 
doos  appear  disappointing,  but  I  allers  allowed  that 
if  we  was  only  able  to  read  her  meanin',  'twould 
be  a  fair  and  kindly  one." 


VIII 
THE   FLOWER   MISSIONARY 

It  was  the  last  day  of  June  when  one  morning, 
before  the  sun  had  a  chance  to  turn  the  pavements 
into  ovens,  Bird,  having  finished  some  marketing 
for  her  aunt,  was  leading  Billy  slowly  in  and  out 
along  the  shady  sides  of  the  streets  toward  Madison 
Square,  where  they  were  watching  the  lotus  plants 
in  the  fountain  for  the  first  sign  of  an  open  flower, 
for  already  buds  were  pushing  their  stately  way 
through  the  great  masses  of  leaves. 

Chancing  to  glance  at  the  window  of  a  newly 
finished  store  that  was  not  yet  rented,  Bird  read 
the  words,  "  Flower  Mission."  As  she  paused  to 
look  at  the  sign,  wondering  what  it  might  mean, 
an  express  wagon  stopped  at  the  curb  and  several 
slat  boxes  and  baskets  filled  with  flowers,  for  sprays 
peeped  from  the  openings,  were  carried  into  the 
building,  a  wave  of  moist  coolness  and  perfume 
following  them. 

Bird's  heart  gave  a  bound  of  longing,  for  the 
146 


THE  FLOWER   MISSIONARY         147 

fragrance  of  the  flowers  painted  a  picture  of  her 
little  straggling  garden  and  held  it  before  her 
eyes  for  a  brief  moment. 

"  Oh,  look,  Bird,  come  quick  and  look ;  it's  all  full 
of  pretty  flowers  in  there !  Do  you  think  they  would 
let  Billy  go  in  and  smell  close  ? "  Billy  was  stand- 
ing by  the  open  door,  and,  as  Bird  glanced  over  his 
shoulder,  she  saw  that  one  side  of  the  store  was  filled 
by  a  long  counter,  improvised  by  placing  boards 
upon  packing  cases,  which  was  already  heaped  with 
flowers  of  every  description  in  addition  to  those  that 
the  expressman  had  just  brought. 

An  elderly  lady,  with  a  big,  white  apron  tied  over  a 
cool,  gray,  summer  gown,  was  sorting  the  flowers 
from  the  mass,  while  a  tall,  slender  young  girl,  of  not 
more  than  sixteen,  dressed  all  in  white,  was  making 
them  into  small  bouquets  and  laying  them  in  neat 
rows  in  an  empty  hamper. 

It  was  the  young  girl  who  overheard  Billy's  ques- 
tion to  Bird  and  answered  it,  saying,  "Of  course 
Billy  may  come  in  and  smell  the  flowers  as  much  as 
he  pleases,  and  have  as  many  as  he  can  carry  home." 

*'  Oh,  can  we  ?  "  said  Bird,  clasping  her  hands  in- 
voluntarily with  her  old  gesture  that  expressed  more 
joy  than  she  could  speak. 

At  the  sound  of  the  second  voice,  the  young  girl 


148  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

pushed  back  the  brim  of  her  drooping,  rose-trimmed 
hat  and  looked  up  with  clear,  gray  eyes.  As  she  did 
so  Bird  recognized  her  as  Marion  Clarke,  the  daughter 
of  the  man  who  spent  his  summers  in  the  stone 
house  on  the  hillside  beyond  Northboro,  and  it  was 
she  who  had  passed  Bird  and  Lammy  on  the  road- 
side the  day  when  she  had  left  her  old  home  and, 
carrying  Twinkle,  was  going  to  Mrs.  Lane's. 

But  if  Bird  recognized  Marion,  the  memory  was  on 
one  side,  as  it  is  apt  to  be  where  one  sees  but  few 
faces  and  the  other  many.  This  however  did  not  pre- 
vent Marion  from  holding  out  her  free  hand  to  the 
younger  girl,  as  she  made  room  for  her  to  pass 
between  the  boxes,  saying,  in  a  charming  voice,  low- 
keyed  and  softly  modulated,  yet  without  a  touch  of 
affectation :  "If  you  are  fond  of  flowers  and  can 
spare  the  time,  perhaps  you  would  help  us  this  morn- 
ing ;  so  many  of  our  friends  have  left  the  city  that  we 
are  short-handed.  Here  is  a  little  box  your  brother 
can  sit  on  if  he  is  tired."  Oh,  that  welcome  touch  of 
companionship,  and  that  voice, — it  made  Bird  almost 
choke,  as  she  said :  — 

"  Billy  is  my  cousin,  and  I  should  love  to  tie  the 
flowers,  for  Aunt  Rose  does  not  expect  us  back  until 
noon." 

It  was  one  of  Marion  Clarke's  strong  points,  young 


THE  FLOWER  MISSIONARY  149 

as  she  was,  that  she  had  insight  as  well  as  tact.  She 
saw  at  a  glance  that  these  children  were  not  of  the 
ordinary  class  that  play  about  the  streets,  interested 
in  every  passing  novelty,  merely  because  it  is  new, 
so  she  had  given  Bird  a  friendly  greeting  and 
asked  her  to  help,  instead  of  merely  offering  the 
children  a  bouquet  and  letting  them  pass  on  as 
objects  of  charity,  no  matter  how  light  the  gift. 

When  Bird  replied  in  direct  and  courteous  speech, 
Marion  knew  that  she  had  read  aright.  An  ordinary 
street  child  of  that  region  would  have  said,  "  I  dunno 
's  I  will,"  or  "What  '11  ye  give  me  'f  I  do ? "  or  per- 
haps declined  wholly  to  answer  and  bolted  off  after 
grabbing  a  handful  of  flowers. 

"  Aunt  Laura,  will  you  let  us  have  some  string  ? 
There,  see,  it  is  cut  in  lengths,  so  that  you  can  twist 
it  around  twice  and  tie  it  so.  I  do  wish  people 
would  tie  up  their  flowers  before  they  send  them, 
they  would  keep  so  much  better ;  but  as  they  do  not, 
we  have  to  manage  as  best  we  may. 

"  Oh,  how  nicely  you  do  it,"  she  continued,  as  Bird 
held  up  her  first  effort  for  approval,  —  a  dainty  bou- 
quet of  mignonette,  a  white  rose,  and  some  pink 
sweet-william,  with  a  curved  spray  of  honeysuckle  to 
break  the  stiffness. 

"  So  many  people  put  the  wrong  colours  together, 


150  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

and  tie  the  flowers  so  tight  that  it  seems  as  if  it 
must  choke  the  dear  things,  —  see,  Uke  this,"  and 
Marion  held  up  a  bunch  in  which  scarlet  poppies  and 
crimson  roses  were  packed  closely  together  without  a 
leaf  of  green. 

"Yes,  I  understand;  those  colours  —  hurt,"  Bird 
answered,  groping  for  a  word  and  finding  exactly  the 
right  one. 

"  You  must  have  lived  in  the  country  and  been  a 
great  deal  with  flowers  to  touch  them  so  deftly  and 
know  so  well  about  the  colours." 

"  I  always  lived  in  the  country  until  this  summer,  < 
and  Terry  taught  me  all  about  the  colours  and  how  to 
mix  them." 

"  Who  was  Terry  ? "  asked  Marion,  much  inter- 
ested, and  not  knowing  that  she  was  treading  upon 
dangerous  ground. 

"  He  was  father,"  and  Bird,  remembering  where 
she  was,  stopped  abruptly,  and  Marion,  who  had 
noticed  the  rusty  black  gown,  understood  that  there 
was  a  story  in  its  shabby  folds  and  forbore  to  intrude. 

Miss  Laura  Clarke,  who  was  the  lady  in  gray,  gave 
Billy  a  pasteboard  box  lid  of  short-stemmed  blossoms 
to  play  with,  and  he  sat  quite  content,  while  the 
others  kept  on  tying  the  flowers  until  only  one 
basketful  was  left 


THE  FLOWER   MISSIONARY  151 

"  The  flowers  come  in  every  Wednesday  morning, 
and  I  ask  people  to  send  them  in  as  early  as  possi- 
ble, so  that  they  may  be  sorted  and  tied  up  by  ten 
o'clock  when  the  ladies  come  to  distribute  them," 
Marion  explained  as  they  worked.  "  They  are  Miss 
Vorse,  the  deaconess  from  the  mission,  beside  two 
workers  from  the  College  Settlement,  and  half  a 
dozen  district  visitors.  Those  two  hampers  go  direct 
to  hospitals,  but  the  ladies  take  the  flowers  about  to 
the  sick  in  the  tenements  and  to  special  cases. 

",I  have  come  here  from  the  country  place  where  I 
live  every  week  all  through  May  and  June,  but  this  is 
my  last  day  this  season,  because  I'm  going  to  Europe 
next  week  with  my  aunt,  and  Miss  Vorse  will  take 
my  place." 

Another  disappointment  for  Bird.  At  last  she 
had  met  some  one  to  whom  she  had  felt  drawn,  and 
whom  she  thought  she  might  see  occasionally,  and 
almost  in  the  same  breath  learned  that  she  was 
going  away. 

"  Do  you  know  of  any  children  who  would  like 
some  flowers,  or  any  one  who  is  ill  ? "  she  added,  as 
she  noticed  that  Bird  was  silent  and  loath  to  go, 
even  though  all  the  bouquets  were  ready  and  Miss 
Laura  was  packing  them  in  the  baskets  and  boxes 
for  distribution. 


152  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

"  There's  Tessie ;  oh,  I  know  that  Tessie  would 
love  to  have  some!"  cried  Bird,  eagerly;  "she  has 
not  waved  to  us  for  nearly  a  week,  and  I  was  going 
to  see  her  this  afternoon  when  Billy  takes  his  nap, 
if  Aunt  Rose  will  let  me,"  and  Bird  told  what  she 
knew  of  the  little  cripple  who  "  kept  house  "  by  her- 
self while  her  mother  and  sister  worked. 

Then  a  happy  idea  came  to  Marion  Clarke. 
Handing  out  a  flat  wicker  basket,  that  held  perhaps 
twenty-five  bouquets,  to  Bird,  she  said :  "  Would  you 
like  to  be  one  of  the  Flower  Missionaries  this 
summer  and  carry  bouquets  ?  Yes  ? "  as  she  saw 
the  glad  look  in  her  eyes;  "then  you  may  fill  this 
basket,  and  here  is  a  big  bouquet  for  you  and  some- 
thing extra  sweet  to  add  to  the  basket,  —  see,  a  bunch 
of  real  wallflowers,  such  as  grow  over  seas,  some 
foreign-born  body  will  go  wild  with  joy  over  it,  and 
here  is  a  fruit  bouquet  a  youngster  has  evidently 
put  together,  —  big  strawberries  on  their  stalks  set 
in  their  own  leaves. 

"  Miss  Vorse  is  coming  now.  I  will  introduce  you 
and  tell  her  to  give  you  the  flowers.  What  is  your 
name  ?  Bird  O'More.  I'm  glad  of  that;  it  seems  to 
fit  you.  I  should  have  been  disappointed  if  it  had 
been  Jane  Jones,"  she  continued,  as  a  sweet-faced, 
tall  young  woman,  dressed  in  a  dark  blue  gown  and 


THE   FLOWER   MISSIONARY  153 

bonnet,  entered,  saying  :  "  I'm  afraid  that  I  am  late, 
but  there  is  so  much  illness  among  the  little  children 
in  the  district  now  that  I  could  not  get  away, 
A  new  Flower  Missionary !  That  is  good ;  children 
can  reach  those  whom  we  cannot." 

Presently  Bird  found  herself  walking  along  the 
street,  Billy's  hand  in  one  of  hers,  and  the  basket  of 
flowers  in  the  other.  Billy  was  prattling  happily,  but 
for  once  she  scarcely  heard  what  he  said,  the  flower 
voices  were  whispering  so  gently  and  saying  such 
beautiful  things. 

"  Take  us  to  Tessie,"  whispered  one.  "  God  lets 
us  bring  sunlight  to  dark  places,"  said  another  — 
*'  You  can  do  the  same."  "  Be  happy,  you  have 
something  to  give  away,"  breathed  another,  and 
this  flower  was  a  spray  of  cheerful  honeysuckle 
that  blooms  freely  for  every  one  alike. 

Yes,  Bird  was  happy,  for  Marion  Clarke  had  held 
her  by  the  hand  and  called  her  a  Flower  Missionary ; 
she  had  flowers  to  give  away  and  flowers  to  take 
home.  Oh,  joy !  she  could  try  to  paint  them,  and 
she  pushed  the  bouquet  that  held  the  old  garden 
flowers,  the  mignonette,  sweet  brier  and  honeysuckle 
under  the  others  to  keep  for  her  own. 

If  she  waited  to  go  home  first,  the  flowers  might 
fade,  so  an  impulse   seized   her  to  give  Tessie  her 


154  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

flowers  first,  and  then  turned  into  the  street  below 
their  own,  trying  to  remember  Mattie's  directions  — 
"  Count  six  houses  from  the  butcher's,  and  then  go 
through  the  arch,  and  up  two  pairs  of  stairs  to  the 
top." 

Before  she  had  gone  a  block,  two  little  girls  had 
begged  her  for  flowers,  one  rosy  and  sturdy  chose 
red  and  yellow  zenias ;  the  other,  who,  like  Billy,  had 
a  "  bad  leg  "  and  hopped,  chose  delicate-hued  sweet 
peas.  Bird  had  never  seen  a  lame  child  in  Laurel- 
ville,  but  now  she  met  them  daily,  for  such  little 
cripples  are  one  of  the  frequent  sights  of  poorer  New 
York. 

At  the  first  corner  a  blind  woman,  selling  the 
mats  she  herself  crocheted,  begged  for  "  a  posy  that 
she  could  tell  by  the  smell  was  passing."  To  her 
Bird  gave  the  bunch  of  mignonette.  A  burly  truck- 
man, who  thought  she  was  selling  the  flowers,  threw 
her  a  dime  and  asked  for  a  "  good-smellin'  bokay  for 
the  missis  who  was  done  up  with  the  heat,"  so  she 
tossed  him  back  the  coin  and  a  bouquet  of  spicy 
garden  pinks  and  roses  together,  while  Billy  called  in 
his  piping  voice,  **  We're  a  Flower  Mission  —  we  gives 
'em  away,"  so  that  the  man  drove  off  laughing,  his 
fat  face  buried  in  the  flowers. 

When  Bird  had  counted  the  "  six  houses  from  the 


THE   FLOWER    MISSIONARY  155 

butcher's  "  and  found  the  archway,  which  was  really 
the  entrance  to  a  dismal  alley,  her  basket  was  almost 
empty.  She  hesitated  about  taking  Billy  into  such  a 
place,  and  in  fact  but  for  her  great  desire  to  give 
Tessie  the  flowers,  she  would  have  turned  back  her- 
self. As  she  looked  up  and  down  the  street,  a  police- 
man passing  noticed  her  hesitation  and  stopped. 

"  Sure  it's  the  plucky  girl  from  Johnny  O'More's 
beyond  that  tried  to  catch  the  thief,  —  and  what  do 
you  be  wantin'  here  ?  " 

Bird  recognized  the  policeman  and  explained,  and 
he  said,  "  Ye  do  right  not  to  be  pokin'  in  back  build- 
ings heedless  ;  it's  not  fit  fer  girls  like  you,  but  this 
same  is  a  dacent  place,  though  poor,  and  as  I'm  not 
on  me  beat,  only  passin'  by  chance,  I'll  go  through 
to  the  buildin'  with  ye,  and  the  kid  can  stay 
below  with  me  while  ye  go  up,  for  stairs  isn't  the 
easiest  fer  the  loikes  av  him." 

So  through  they  went,  the  big  policeman  leading 
the  way,  and  entering  the  back  building  Bird  began 
to  grope  upward.  When  the  house  had  stood  by  it- 
self in  the  middle  of  an  old  garden,  the  sun  had  shone 
through  and  through  it,  but  now  the  windows  on  two 
sides  were  closed,  and  the  halls  were  dark,  and  the 
bannister  rails  half  gone. 

At  the  first  floor  landing  she  paused  a  moment. 


156  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

What  was  that  tap,  tapping  ?  It  came  from  a  small 
room  made  by  boarding  off  one  end  of  the  broad, 
old-fashioned  hallway.  The  door  was  open  and  a 
single  ray  of  sun  shot  across  from  an  oval  window 
that  had  originally  lighted  the  stairs  and  was  high  in 
the  wall. 

In  the  streak  of  sun  was  a  cobbler's  bench  and  on 
it  sat  a  man  busily  at  work  fastening  a  sole  to  a  shoe, 
so  old  that  it  scarcely  seemed  worth  the  mending. 

Then  she  went  on  again  and,  after  knocking  at  two 
wrong  doors,  finally  found  the  right  one. 

"  Come  in,"  piped  a  shrill,  cheery  voice ;  "  I  can't 
come  to  open  it,"  and  in  Bird  went. 

"  I  hoped  that  you  would  come  to-day,"  said  the 
small  figure,  sitting  bolstered  up  in  a  wooden  rocking- 
chair  with  her  feet  on  a  box  covered  with  an  end  of 
rag  carpet,  by  way  of  greeting.  No  introduction  was 
necessary,  for  the  two  girls  knew  each  other  perfectly 
well,  although  their  previous  acquaintance  had  merely 
been  by  waving  rags  across  the  yards. 

"  My  legs  haven't  felt  as  if  they  had  bones  in  *em 
in  a  week,"  Tessie  continued,  "  so's  I  couldn't  reach 
up  high  enough  to  wave,  and  it  seemed  real  lone- 
some, but  I've  got  a  new  pattern  for  lace,  and  there's 
a  man  in  the  store  where  Mattie  works  who  says  he'll 
give  me  half-a-dollar  for  every  yard  I  make  of  it,  — 


THE   FLOWER   MISSIONARY  157 

what  do  you  think  of  that?"  and  she  spread  out 
proudly  a  handsome  bit  of  Irish  crocheted  lace  upon 
which  she  was  working.  It  was  four  inches  wide,  a 
combination  of  clover  leaves,  and  very  elaborate,  of 
the  kind  that  is  so  much  sought  now  and  costs  many 
dollars  a  yard  in  the  shops. 

"It  is  beautiful,"  explained  Bird;  "how  do  you 
know  how  to  do  it  ? " 

"  My  mother  learned  long  ago  in  the  Convent  in 
the  old  country,  but  her  hands  are  too  stiff  to  make  it 
now,  and  besides  she  says  it  wouldn't  pay  her.  So 
she  showed  me  the  stitch  and  some  of  the  old  pat- 
terns, and  one  night  last  week,  when  I  couldn't  sleep 
very  good,  I  was  thinkin'  of  the  lace  work,  and  I 
guess  I  must  have  dreamed  the  new  pattern,  for  the 
next  morning  I  worked  it  right  out.  Those  leaves 
is  like  some  that  came  in  a  pocketful  of  grass  Mattie 
fetched  me  home ;  one  day  they  were  cutting  it  over  in 
the  square,  and  the  man  let  her  take  it.  I  just  love 
the  smell  o'  grass,  don't  you  ?  And  now  's  I  can't  get 
out,  Mattie  brings  me  some  in  her  pocket  every  time 
she  can.  I  guess  she  will  to-night  if  they've  cut  it 
to-day." 

All  this  time  Bird  held  her  basket  behind  her,  but 
now  she  wheeled  about  and  rested  it  on  the  arm  of 
Tessie's  chair.     The  joy  of  the  child  was  wonderful, 


158  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

almost  startling.  Her  dark  eyes  dilated  and  she 
looked  first  at  Bird  and  then  at  the  flowers,  as  she 
almost  whispered  in  the  excitement  of  her  surprise, 
"  Ye  ain't  got  'em  to  keep,  have  ye  ?  "  Then  as  Bird 
tipped  them  into  her  lap,  "  They  ain't  fer  me,  fer 
sure  ? " 

"  Yes,  they  are,  and  I'm  going  to  bring  you  some 
every  Wednesday,"  said  Bird,  joyfully,  and  then  she 
told  about  Marion  Clarke  and  the  Flower  Mission. 

"  Ain't  it  jest  heavenly  to  think  of,  —  me  with  a 
whole  winder  to  myself  that  opens  out  and  the  cro- 
chet to  do  and  real  flowers,  new  ones  that  ain't  been 
used  at  all,"  and  Tessie  leaned  back  and  closed  her 
eyes  in  perfect  content. 

Then  suddenly  Bird's  sorrow  seemed  to  grow 
lighter  and  life  a  little  brighter,  and  the  sunhght  as 
it  were  crept  in  to  sweeten  them  both  —  she  had 
something  to  give  away,  and  lo,  it  was  good. 

Tessie  was  down  handling  the  blossoms  again  and 
discovered  the  berry  bouquet  beneath.  "  Oh,  but 
here's  growing  strawberries  on  a  bush  like !  Well,  I 
never,  never !  But  they're  handsome !  Maybe  I 
could  make  a  pattern  from  them,  too.  Oh,  surely 
there's  ang-els  about  somewhere  doin'  things.  You 
know  Father  John,  he  says  I've  got  a  Guardian  Angel 
looking  out  after  me,  and  St.  Theresa  my  name  saint 


V<5^*«-^       vS^-x/^:i2_       €%-^ 


"  '  They  ain't  fer  me,  fer  sure  F  '  " 


THE   FLOWER   MISSIONARY  159 

chose  her,  and  that  everybody  has,  though  for  a  long 
spell  I  didn't  know  it.  You  see  it's  been  easier  for 
her  to  look  after  me  since  we've  got  a  room  with  an 
opened-out  winder.  I  reckon  if  I  was  an  angel,  I 
wouldn't  care  to  poke  around  air-shafts  much.  Oh, 
what's  these  browny-yeller  flowers  that  smell  so 
elegant? "  and  Tessie  held  up  the  wallflowers. 

When  Bird  told  their  name,  Tessie  gave  a  little  cry 
and  said,  "They're  what  mother  talks  about  that 
grew  up  in  the  wall  below  the  big  house  at  home 
where  her  father  was  a  keeper,  and  the  smell  of  them 
came  in  the  cottage  windows  in  the  night  air  right  to 
her,  and  she's  often  said  she'd  cross  the  sea  again  to 
smell  them  if  she  had  the  price,  and  now  she  won't 
have  to  take  that  trouble.  That  angel  has  found 
our  winder  for  sure.  Would  you  get  me  the  little 
pitcher  and  some  water  in  it  yonder  ? " 

The  larger  of  the  two  rooms,  the  one  with  the 
window,  had  two  clean  beds  in  it,  over  which  a  news- 
paper picture  of  the  Madonna  and  Child  was  pinned 
to  the  wall,  two  chairs,  and  an  old  bureau,  while  the 
smaller  room,  little  more  than  a  closet,  held  a  table, 
a  few  dishes,  and  an  oil  cooking-stove,  all  as  neat 
as  wax.  A  pail  of  water  stood  on  the  table,  from 
which  Bird  filled  the  pitcher,  and  set  it  on  a  chair  by 
Tessie  that  she  might  herself  arrange  the   flowers. 


i6o  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

Then,  remembering  that  the  policeman  and  Billy 
were  waiting,  she  picked  up  her  basket  and  her  own 
flowers,  and,  promising  to  come  the  next  week,  groped 
her  way  downstairs  again. 

Bird  did  not  see  the  tired  mother,  when  she  returned 
from  her  day's  scrubbing,  enter  the  dark  room  and 
drawing  a  quick  breath  say,  in  an  awe-struck  voice,  "  I 
smell  them  —  I  smell  the  wallflowers !  Sure,  am  I 
dreaming  or  dying  ? "  or  see  the  way  in  which  she 
buried  her  face  in  the  mass,  laughing  and  crying 
together,  when  the  lamp  was  lit  and  Tessie  had  told 
her  the  how  and  why  of  it. 

There  were  dreary  days  often  after  this,  when  her 
uncle  was  away  on  long  trips  and  her  aunt  was  cross, 
but  though  Bird  did  not  yet  give  up  all  hope  of  going 
back  some  day  among  her  friends,  or  studying,  as 
she  had  promised  her  father,  she  was  learning  the 
lesson  of  patience,  which,  after  all,  is  the  first  and 
last  one  to  know  by  heart. 

Now  the  morning-glories  had  reached  the  win- 
dow tops,  and  in  the  little  bower  above  the 
clothes-lines  she  and  Billy  often  sat  as  she  told 
him  stories  of  the  real  country,  of  Lammy  and 
Twinkle,  the  old  white  horse,  and  the  red  peonies, 
and  flew  there  in  imagination.  Then  the  child's 
big  eyes  would  flash  as  he   gazed   at   her,  and   he 


THE   FLOWER   MISSIONARY  i6i 

always  ended  by  asking,  "  When  we  stop  being  birds 
in  this  cage,  we'll  fly  right  up  there  to  your  country 
and  be  real  birds  and  see  Lammy  and  Twinkle, 
won't  we  ? "  And  Bird  always  answered,  "  Yes,"  to 
please  him,  but  it  was  a  word  that  meant  nothing  to 
her.  So  the  summer  wore  on,  and  Bird  did  not  go 
back  to  Laurelville. 


IX 

'RAM   SLOCUM'S  TAUNT 

While  Bird  was  putting  away  from  her  all 
thought  of  going  back  to  Laurelville  for  a  summer 
visit,  Lammy  Lane  was  trying  in  every  way  to  bring 
about  her  return. 

His  mother  was  the  only  person  in  the  family  or 
village  who  really  read  Lammy  aright  and  valued 
him  at  his  worth.  She  never  laughed  at  his 
various  contrivances  and  mechanical  inventions,  and 
when  he  appeared  to  be  star-gazing,  she  firmly 
believed  that  it  was  not  idleness,  but  that  he  was 
interested  in  things  other  than  the  mere  jog-trot 
work  on  the  farm. 

His  brothers  had  all  taken  up  other  occupations 
in  factory  and  shop,  and  Joshua  Lane  had  expected 
that  easy-going  Lammy,  the  youngest  by  several 
years,  would  naturally  drift  along  into  farm  work ; 
but  the  boy  had  said,  when  his  father  had  spoken 
upon  the  subject,  "  Farming  is  all  right,  only  this  one 
isn't  big  enough   for  mo'n  two,  and  I   like  to  live 

162 


'RAM   SLOCUM'S   TAUNT  163 

in  the  country  for  pleasure;  but  for  a  trade  I'm 
going  into  making  somethin'  that  bugs  can't  eat, 
and  that  won't  get  dried  up,  nor  drowned  out 
neither,"  To  Joshua  this  remark  savoured  of  feeble- 
mindedness; but  when  he  repeated  it  to  Dr.  Jedd, 
that  keen-eyed  person  laughed,  saying  they  need 
not  worry  about  Lam  my,  for  that  some  day  he 
might  surprise  them  alL 

All  through  June  he  worked  diligently  at  straw- 
berry picking;  then  currants  and  raspberries  fol- 
lowed in  quick  succession,  so  that  it  was  nearly 
August,  when,  with  twenty  dollars  to  his  credit  in 
the  Northboro  Savings  Bank,  he  took  a  vacation 
and  went  to  his  old  haunts  with  the  other  boys. 

Lammy  had  been  bitterly  disappointed  when  he 
found  that  Bird  could  not  return  to  spend  the 
Fourth  of  July,  but  he  was  not  in  the  least  daunted ; 
for,  after  all,  what  was  a  whole  summer  even,  when 
some  day  Bird  would  come  back  for  good?  The 
boy  firmly  believed  that  something  would  turn  up 
to  enable  his  father  to  buy  the  fruit  farm,  or  if 
that  was  impossible,  he  would  try  to  coax  his 
father  and  mother  to  get  her  back  without.  There 
was  always  plenty  to  eat,  and  his  home  seemed  so 
pleasant  to  him  that  he  did  not  realize  how  hard 
his    parents    had    to   struggle    to    make   both   ends 


i64  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

meet  in  the  bad  seasons  when  the  bugs  ate  and 
the  drought  dried.  He  did  not,  of  course,  know  of 
John  O'More's  requirement  that  if  Bird  ever  re- 
turned she  must  be  legally  adopted,  and  share  and 
share  alike  with  his  brothers  and  himself;  but  if 
he  had,  it  would  have  made  no  difference. 

Lammy  was  very  fond  of  prowling  in  the  deep 
woods  and  along  the  river.  He  had  intimate  ac- 
quaintances among  the  gray  squirrels,  always  knew 
where  fox  cubs  could  be  found,  and  had  once 
reared  a  litter  of  skunk  pups  under  an  abandoned 
barn.  Their  mother  had  evidently  been  trapped,  — 
for  he  never  saw  her,  —  and  he  fed  the  young  with 
milk  and  scraps,  in  the  childish  belief  that  they 
were  some  sort  of  half-wild  kittens,  and  was  very 
much  disgusted,  when  they  were  old  enough  to 
follow  him  home,  that  his  father  declined  to  have 
them  about,  and  that  they  disappeared  the  very 
same  night. 

But  the  river  interested  him  the  most,  and  he 
not  only  knew  every  swimming  and  pike  hole, 
perch  run  and  spawning  shallow,  along  its  ten- 
mile  course  from  Northboro  down  to  the  Mill  Farm 
at  Milltown,  and  the  windings  of  every  trout  brook 
that  fed  it,  but  he  understood  all  that  went  on  in 
the    half    dozen    mills    or  shops    along    the    route. 


'RAM   SLOCUM'S  TAUNT  165 

He  could  explain  exactly  how  the  water  was  turned 
on  and  off  and  the  gearing  adjusted  in  the  grist- 
mill, the  stamping  and  perforating  done  at  the 
button  factory,  or  the  sand  moulds  prepared  at 
the  forge  where  scrap  iron  -was  turned  into  cheap 
ploughshares  and  other  cast  implements. 

One  very  hot  day  the  last  part  of  July  when 
Lammy,  together  with  'Ram  Slocum  and  Bob 
Jedd,  was  going  to  the  pet  swimming-hole  of  the 
Laurelville  boys,  a  clear  pebble-lined  pool  with  a 
shelving  rock  on  one  side  that  approached  the 
water  by  easy  steps,  they  heard  voices  in  the 
woods  and  came  suddenly  upon  a  party  of  young 
fellows  from  the  Engineers'  Summer  School,  which 
had  its  camp  farther  down  the  ridge  of  hills. 

"  Hullo ! "  shouted  the  foremost,  addressing 
Lammy,  who  also  chanced  to  be  in  the  lead; 
"can  you  tell  us  if  there  is  any  decent  place  to 
swim  hereabouts .-'  The  pond  at  the  Mill  Farm  is 
posted  *  No  Trespassing,'  most  of  the  river  bed  is 
either  too  rocky  or  too  shallow,  and  the  only  good 
place  we've  struck  below  here  has  a  mud  bottom, 
and  looked  too  much  like  an  eel  hole  to  suit  me." 

"Yes,  'tis  an  eel  hole,  this  side  of  the  course," 
Lammy  answered  readily,  "and  t'other  side  there's 
pickerel  could  bite  yer  toes  if  they  was  minded  to. 


1 66  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

I'll  show  yer  a  bully  place.  We're  going  there 
now,  and  it  isn't  much  further  up." 

"  Charge  him  a  quarter  for  the  steer,"  said  'Ram 
Slocum,  in  a  loud  whisper,  kicking  Lammy's  bare 
shins  to  stop  him,  for  he  had  stepped  forward 
eagerly  to  lead  the  way. 

"  Shan't  either,"  Lammy  replied  spicily,  to  'Ram's 
astonishment ;  "  water's  free  up  here,  even  if  your 
pop  won't  let  us  swim  in  the  mill-pond,  and  does 
charge  folks  three  cents  a  barrel  for  taking  water 
when  their  wells  are  dry." 

'Ram,  a  strong  boy  of  sixteen,  with  bright  red 
hair,  who  usually  domineered  over  all  the  boys  of 
his  age  and  under,  —  particularly  under,  —  had  never 
before  been  so  answered  by  any  of  his  companions, 
much  less  Lammy,  to  whom  he  often  referred  as 
"softy,"  and  his  temper  rose  accordingly.  His 
nickname  "  'Ram,"  short  for  Abiram,  referred  to 
his  fighting  proclivities  and  the  way  in  which  he 
frequently  used  his  bullet  head  to  knock  out  an 
antagonist'  instead  of  his  fists ;  and  though  he  did 
not  see  fit  to  follow  the  matter  then  and  there,  in 
his  mind  he  put  down  Lammy  for  punishment 
when  he  should  next  catch  him  alone. 

Meanwhile  Lammy,  silently  threading  through  the 
dense  underbrush,  followed  by   Bob  Jedd,  reached 


'RAM   SLOCUM'S   TAUNT  167 

the  swimming-hole,  while  'Ram  slowly  brought  up 
the  rear,  crashing  along  sullenly,  kicking  the  dead 
branches  right  and  left  so  that  the  little  ground 
beasts  fled  before  him,  now  and  then  pausing  either 
to  pound  a  luckless  land  turtle  with  a  stone,  or 
shake  from  its  perch  some  bird  who,  silent  and 
dejected,  had  sought  deep  cover  for  its  moulting 
time. 

When  he  reached  the  others,  he  found  not  only 
that  Lammy  had  made  friends  with  the  students, 
who,  by  the  way,  were  a  new  lot  who  had  recently 
come  to  camp,  but  that  they  were  asking  him 
all  sorts  of  questions  to  draw  out  his  knowledge 
of  the  neighbourhood,  and  were  actually  making 
Lammy  a  good  offer  if  he  would  come  to  the  camp 
daily  during  their  stay,  be  "chainboy"  on  their  sur- 
veying expeditions,  and  show  them  many  things 
about  the  country  that  it  would  be  a  waste  of  time 
for  them  to  search  out  for  themselves. 

Now  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Slocum  had  been  very  much 
stirred  up  by  these  same  surveyors,  and  being  sus- 
picious, as  shifty  people  usually  are,  wondered  very 
much  if  the  men  were  only  practising  as  they 
claimed,  or  if  they  were  in  the  pay  of  some  land 
company,  and  prospecting,  that  they  might  see  where 
land  could  be  bought  in   large  blocks.     They   had 


i68  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

tried  all  summer  to  have  'Ram  employed  about  the 
camp,  that  he  might  keep  his  eyes  and  ears  open, 
but  so  far  to  no  avail.  Consequently,  when  the  boy 
heard  the  coveted  position  offered  to  Lammy,  his 
rage  and  disappointment  got  the  better  of  his  usu- 
ally shrewd  discretion,  and  pushing  into  the  group, 
he  almost  shouted,  his  voice  pitched  high  with 
eagerness :  — 

"  Lammy  ain't  the  one  you  want ;  he  ain't  strong, 
and  he's  got  no  go.  I'm  two  years  older  and  worth 
twice  as  much,  but  I'll  take  the  job  at  the  same 
price  and  get  pop  to  let  you  swim  in  the  mill-pond  if 
you'll  hire  me." 

"  I  rather  think  not,"  said  the  spokesman,  a 
bronzed,  broad-shouldered  young  fellow  of  about 
nineteen.  "  I'm  afraid  you  might  charge  us  for  the 
air  we  breathed  while  we  were  in  swimming ;  besides, 
I  never  employ  a  sneak  if  I  know  it." 

Then  'Ram  knew  that  he  had  been  overheard,  and 
he  slunk  away  toward  home,  owing  Lammy  a  double 
grudge,  and  the  sounds  of  shouts  of  merriment  and 
the  splashing  of  water  did  not  tend  to  cool  his  wrath. 

As  for  Lammy,  he  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  rock, 
trailing  his  brown  toes  in  the  water  in  the  seventh 
heaven  of  content;  for  he  was  to  help  carry  those 
mysterious   instruments   about  for   a  whole   month, 


'RAM   SLOCUM'S   TAUNT  169 

and  go  in  and  out  of  the  Summer  School  camp, 
knowing  what  was  said  and  done  there,  instead  of 
gazing  at  it  across  the  fields.  Then,  too,  per- 
haps he  might  some  day  meet  Mr.  Clarke,  and  pos- 
sibly, though  it  was  a  daring  thought,  get  leave  to 
go  into  the  mysterious  building  in  his  locomotive 
works  at  Northboro  that  bore  the  sign  "  Strictly 
Private  —  No   Admittance." 

Bird  and  he  had  often  talked  of  such  a  possibiUty. 
How  glad  she  would  be  to  know !  He  would  write 
to  her  all  about  it. 

He  did,  but  had  no  reply ;  for  the  letter  reached 
Bird  at  one  of  the  times  when  her  uncle  was  away. 
Billy  had  been  suffering  more  than  usual,  and  his 
mother  was  consequently  very  cross  and  difficult  to 
bear  with.  Bird  put  the  letter  by  to  answer  "  to- 
morrow " ;  but  every  day  bore  its  own  burden,  and 
the  days   piled   up   into   weeks. 

♦  *»«♦» 

Joshua  worked  steadily  on  the  fruit  farm  all  the 
season,  preparing  for  future  crops  as  conscientiously 
as  if  he  himself  was  to  be  the  owner.  Of  this,  how- 
ever, he  had  no  hope;  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
bid  on  the  place,  as  he  had  little  or  no  ready  money, 
and  the  only  way  to  raise  this  would  be  to  mortgage 
his  own  little  farm. 


1 70  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

This  several  of  his  neighbours  had  suggested,  offer- 
ing to  loan  him  the  money ;  but  Joshua  had  struggled 
along  some  fifteen  years  under  the  weight  of  a  mort- 
gage, and  now  that  he  was  freed  he  did  not  wish  to 
pick  up  the  burden  again.  Then,  too,  his  farm  with 
its  old  ramshackle  outbuildings  was  not  worth  more 
than  three  thousand  dollars,  while  the  fruit  farm 
with  its  rich  land,  good  barn,  poultry  house,  and 
newly  shingled  dwelling  was  valued  by  good  judges 
at  any  figure  from  five  to  six  thousand  dollars.  For 
though  Aunt  Jimmy  had  scrimped  herself  in  many 
ways,  she  was  too  good  a  business  woman  to  let  her 
property  get  out  of  repair. 

Neither  of  the  Lane  brothers  were  as  well  off  as 
Joshua,  so  by  the  last  of  October  the  community  had 
decided  that  the  fruit  farm  must  go  out  of  the 
family,  and  attention  was  divided  between  who 
would  buy  it  and  what  Joshua  would  do  with  his 
third  of  the  proceeds,  —  better  his  house,  or  buy 
more  land. 

The  Slocums  were  considered  to  be  the  most 
likely  purchasers;  for  Abiram  Slocum  was  known 
to  have  much  money  stored  away  in  various  paying 
farms  as  well  as  in  the  Northboro  bank,  though  the 
way  in  which  he  came  by  it  was  not  approved,  even 
by  the  most  close-fisted  of  his  neighbours,  for  'Biram 


'RAM   SLOCUM'S   TAUNT  171 

was  what  was  called  a  "land  shark."  He  sold 
worthless  parcels  of  land  that  would  grow  nothing 
but  docks  and  mullein  to  the  hard-working  Poles 
and  Hungarians  who  were  fast  colonizing  the  out- 
skirts of  Northboro,  taking  part  cash  payment,  the 
rest  on  mortgage,  and  encouraging  them  to  build. 
Then  when  the  interest  became  overdue,  owing  to 
inevitable  poor  crops,  he  foreclosed,  put  out  the 
family,  and  sold  the  place  anew. 

So  sure  did  Mrs.  Slocum  appear  to  be  that  she 
would  own  the  fruit  farm,  that  she  took  it  upon 
herself  to  watch  the  place  to  see,  as  she  explained 
when  caught  by  Joshua  Lane  peeking  in  at  the 
kitchen  window,  "that  nothing  properly  belonging 
to  it  was  took  off."  He  told  her  in  very  plain 
language  that  whoever  bought  the  farm  would  buy 
what  there  was  on  it  at  the  time,  and  no  more,  as 
his  aunt  had  trusted  him  with  the  management 
until  the  final  settlement,  and  that  what  he  did 
was  no  man's  business  save  that  of  the  heirs. 

In  the  interval,  before  it  was  time  to  tie  up  vines 
and  bed  the  various  berries  with  their  winter  cover- 
ing of  manure,  he  turned  his  attention  to  Aunt 
Jimmy's  flower  garden,  a  strip  of  ground  enclosed 
by  a  neat  picket  fence,  where  a  box-edged  path 
starting  under  a  rose  trellis  ran  down  the    middle 


172  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

and  disappeared  in  a  grape  arbour  at  the  farther 
end,  and  everything  that  was  fragrant  and  hardy 
and  worth  growing  flanked  the  walk,  while  be- 
hind, the  sweet  peas  and  nasturtiums  climbed  up  to 
the  very  fence  top  in  their  effort  to  see  and  be 
seen. 

This  garden  had  been  the  apple  of  Aunt  Jimmy's 
eye,  and  in  spite  of  all  "  spells "  and  oddities,  she 
had  tended  it  wholly  herself,  her  one  gentle  feminine 
impulse,  as  far  as  the  outside  world  knew,  having 
been  giving  nosegays  to  the  children  that  passed 
the  house  on  their  way  home  from  school.  If  they 
handled  the  flowers  carelessly,  they  never  received 
a  second  bunch,  but  if  they  cherished  them,  slips, 
seeds,  and  bulbs  were  sure  to  follow,  so  that  Aunt 
Jimmy's  flowers  lived  long  after  her  in  childish 
garden  plots. 

Prompted  by  Lauretta  Ann, — for  Joshua  was  too 
hard-headed  and  practical  to  have  learned  anything 
about  flowers,  except  that  they  must  be  fed  and 
watered  like  other  stock,  whether  animal  or  vege- 
table, —  he  regulated  the  various  borders,  dividing 
and  resetting  the  roots  of  hardy  plants  under  his 
wife's  direction,  as  Aunt  Jimmy  had  done  each 
autumn,  while  Lammy  stood  by,  eagerly  waiting  for 
the  "  weedings,"  which  he  carried  home  with  great 


'RAM    SLOCUM'S   TAUNT  173 

care  and  set  out  in  a  corner  south  of  the  bam,  "  to 
make,"  as  he  said,  "a  little  garden  for  Bird,  in  case 
we  don't  get  the  fruit  farm."  His  mother  encour- 
aged him  in  this  and  praised  his  efforts,  giving  him 
some  strips  of  chicken  wire  to  make  a  trellis,  so 
that  his  vines  might  in  time  cover  the  end  of  the 
old,  gray-shingled  barn.  Even  she,  however,  did 
not  know  of  another  little  garden  strip  on  a  far-away 
hillside  that  he  had  tended  all  summer  for  the  sake 
of  his  little  friend. 

In  spite  of  Joshua  Lane's  rebuke  to  Mrs.  Slocum, 
she  continued  spying  and  insinuating,  and  not  many 
days  later,  chancing  to  drive  by  the  fruit  farm  half 
an  hour  after  school  was  out,  and  seeing  Lammy 
going  up  the  road,  carrying  a  basket,  spade,  and 
water  can,  followed  by  faithful  Twinkle,  she  hurried 
home  and  bade  'Ram  "step  lively  and  follow  that 
Lane  boy  up,  an'  see  where  he's  goin',  and  what 
he's  got,  and  what  he's  agoin'  to  do  with  it." 

Mrs.  Slocum  was  more  than  usually  determined 
upon  annoying  the  Lanes,  since  Joshua,  as  adminis- 
trator for  Terence  O'More,  had  refused  payment  of 
the  rent  owed  for  the  little  cottage,  until  the  insur- 
ance company  had  satisfied  themselves  as  to  the 
cause  of  the  fire  and  paid  Abiram's  claim.     The  fur- 


174  *    AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

niture  destroyed,  at  the  lowest  estimate,  would  have 
been  more  than  enough  to  cancel  the  debt. 

'Ram,  only  too  glad  to  do  his  mother's  errand, 
after  the  manner  of  all  bullies,  waited  until  Lammy 
was  out  of  reach  of  protection  and  well  up  on  the 
sheltered  "hill  road  "  before  he  overtook  him,  asking 
in  a  "  you've-got-to-tell "  tone  what  he  had  in  the 
basket  and  where  he  was  going.  Upon  Lammy's 
declining  to  tell,  he  announced  his  intention  of 
following  until  he  found  out  for  himself. 

Now  it  must  be  remembered  that  Lammy  had  the 
name  of  being  girlish,  if  not  exactly  cowardly,  that 
he  was  only  fourteen,  and  though  tall,  was  of  a  slen- 
der build ;  while  'Ram  was  not  only  broad-shouldered 
and  sixteen,  but  the  village  braggart  to  boot,  so  that 
it  really  took  some  pluck  for  Lammy  to  continue  up 
that  houseless  road  with  'Ram  muttering  threats  and 
marching  close  behind.  Still  Lammy  walked 
straight  on  past  all  the  farms,  to  where  the  run- 
away Christmas  trees  stood  sentinels  around  the 
hillside  graveyard.  There  is  no  denying  that  his 
hand  shook  as  he  unlatched  the  gate,  but  he  did 
not  falter  or  look  back,  but  went  to  the  corner 
where  were  the  mounds  that  marked  the  graves  of 
Bird  O'More's  father  and  mother. 

Why  the  turf  was  so  much  greener  and  smoother 


'RAM   SLOCUM'S   TAUNT  175 

than  anywhere  else  in  the  enclosure  no  one  but 
Lammy  knew,  and  for  a  moment  'Ram  paused  out- 
side the  fence  in  sheer  surprise ;  but  a.s  Lammy, 
kneeling  down,  took  a  couple  of  roots  of  the  red 
peony  from  his  basket,  and  prepared  to  plant  one  at 
the  top  of  each  flowery  mound,  his  surprise  vanished 
in  derision. 

"  Ain't  you  a  fool  for  sure ! "  he  shouted,  not 
coming  in  the  enclosure,  for,  stupid  and  supersti- 
tious like  all  real  cowards,  he  thought  it  bad  luck  to 
cross  a  graveyard,  —  "a  fool  for  sure,  planting  posies 
yer  stole ;  top  of  paupers,  too,  when  even  that  stuck- 
up  girl  that  was  yer  sweetheart's  gone  off  to  live 
with  rich  folks  and  has  clean  forgotten  them  and 
you ! " 

Lammy's  trembling  fingers  fumbled  with  the  earth 
and  his  head  swam.  The  first  part  of  'Ram's  jeer 
made  his  blood  boil,  but  after  all  it  was  a  lie,  and  lies 
do  not  sting  for  long ;  for  poor  though  O'More  was, 
his  debts  would  be  paid  to  a  penny,  and  Lammy 
had  bought  the  peony  roots  from  his  father  as  execu- 
tor by  doing  extra  weeding  on  the  fruit  farm. 

The  last  sentence,  however,  hurt  cruelly ;  for 
though  Lammy  did  not  believe  it,  he  had  no  way  of 
disproving  it  even  to  himself,  and  so  could  not  say  a 
word  to  'Ram  in  reply  ;  for  during  the  five  months 


176  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

since  Bird  went  away  only  two  brief  notes  had  come 
from  her,  and  these  told  about  city  streets  and  sights, 
and  little  or  nothing  of  herself.  While,  to  make  it 
the  more  strange,  when,  in  the  hot  August  weather, 
Mrs.  Lane  had  sent  her  an  invitation  to  come  up 
for  the  promised  visit,  enclosing  the  tickets,  which 
represented  some  weeks  of  egg  money,  and  offered 
herself  to  go  down  to  New  Haven  to  meet  the  child, 
a  stiff  little  note  returning  the  tickets  had  come  by 
way  of  reply,  and  though  it  was  grateful  in  wording 
and  said  something  vague  about  going  with  Billy  for 
sea  air,  etc.,  he  could  not  guess  the  disappointment 
that  it  covered,  and  that  the  sea  air  was  merely  a 
chance  ferry  ride,  or  the  breeze  that  blew  over  Bat- 
tery Park,  where  they  herded  daily  with  hundreds  of 
other  children  of  poorer  New  York.  Lammy  had 
been  cut  to  the  heart,  and  'Ram's  taunt  rankled 
indeed. 

Mrs.  Lane,  however,  had  read  between  the  lines, 
her  keen  insight,  confidence  in  Bird,  and  motherly 
love  serving  as  spectacles.  She  still  felt,  as  she 
always  had  done,  that  Bird  was  unhappy,  and  yet  too 
proud  to  confess  it,  and  that  she  did  not  dare 
write  often  or  come  among  them,  for  fear  that  they 
should  discover  what  they  could  not  as  yet  better. 
For  Mrs.    Lane   remembered    O'More's   conditional 


'RAiM   SLOCUM'S   TAUNT  177 

promise  only  too  well,  and  the  possibility  of  fulfilling 
her  part  of  adopting  the  little  girl  within  the  year 
seemed  to  grow  more  and  more  remote. 

Silently  Lammy  finished  his  work,  picking  up 
every  dead  leaf  that  lay  on  the  mounds,  and  then 
taking  his  spade  and  basket,  turned  to  go  home,  but 
there  stood  his  tormentor  by  the  gate. 

If  anything  angers  a  bully,  it  is  silence.  If  Lammy 
had  engaged  in  a  war  of  words,  the  chances  are  that 
'Ram  would  have  gone  away,  having  had,  as  he  con- 
sidered it,  his  fun  out.  As  it  was,  he  really  felt  that 
he  had  been  neglected  and  affronted,  so,  making  be- 
lieve open  the  gate  as  Lammy  closed  it,  he  said,  "  I 
can  dig  up  them  posies  twict  as  quick  as  you 
planted   'em." 

"  Maybe  you  can,  but  you  won't,"  cried  Lammy, 
suddenly  growing  pale  and  rigid,  while  he  stood  out- 
side the  gate,  but  square  in  front  of  it. 

"Oh,  ho,  and  who  '11  stop  me  ?"  sneered  'Ram,  in 
amused  surprise,  standing  with  his  arms  akimbo. 

Without  saying  another  word,  Lammy,  the  meek, 
the  boy-girl  in  name,  flew  at  'Ram  with  such  sud- 
denness, beating  and  buffetting  him,  that  the  big  boy 
was  knocked  down  before  he  knew  it.  Recovering 
his  feet  quickly,  he  tried  to  grapple  with  the  lanky 
little  lad,  but  Lammy  twisted  and  turned  with  the 


178  AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL 

litheness  of  a  cat,  landing  rapid  if  rather  wild  blows  at 
each  plunge,  while  Twinkle  nipped  at  'Ram's  heels, 
until  finally  'Ram,  seeing  that  he  was  outmatched  in 
agility,  and  determined  to  conquer  without  more 
ado,  lowered  his  head  for  the  celebrated  "butt"  that 
generally  winded  his  antagonist. 

Lam  my 's  fighting  Yankee  ancestors  must  have 
left  the  lower  end  of  the  graveyard  and  marched  up 
to  encourage  him  on  this  occasion ;  for  he  was  nearly 
spent  and  was  pausing  to  get  breath  when  the  lunge 
came,  so  that  his  final  effort  was  to  give  a  side 
twist,  and  the  blow  of  the  red  bullet  head  was 
received  square  and  full  by  the  locust  gate  post 
instead  of  by  Lammy's  stomach. 

'Ram  dropped  to  the  ground,  where  he  lay  for 
several  minutes  seeing  stars,  planets,  and  comets, 
while  a  bump  as  big  as  an  apple  appeared  in  the 
middle  of  his  forehead  and  the  cords  of  his  neck 
ached  like  teeth.  Meanwhile  Lammy,  his  nervous 
strength  gone,  ran  all  the  way  home,  and  throwing 
himself  on  his  bed,  whither  he  was  followed  by  his 
mother,  who  saw  his  livid  face  as  he  dashed  through 
the  kitchen,  sobbed  as  if  his  heart  would  break,  not 
from  fear,  but  because  in  the  reaction  he  remembered 
what  Bird  had  said  of  people  who  fought  either  with 
their  tongues  or  fists. 


'RAM   SLOCUM'S   TAUNT  179 

It  was  not  until  long  afterward  that  he  thought 
it  strange,  and  wondered  why  his  mother  had  not 
scolded  him,  only  hugged  him  to  her  comfortable, 
pillowy  breast,  when  he  told  his  story,  and  put  nearly 
all  of  her  precious  bottle  of  Northboro  cologne  on 
his  head  to  soothe  it,  and  gave  him  buttered  toast, 
when,  after  having  his  cry  out,  he  came  down  to 
supper,  which  dainty  was  generally  regarded  as  only 
for  the  minister  or  else  a  "  sick-a-bed  "  luxury.  His 
father  meanwhile  actually  broke  into  a  laugh  and 
said,  "  Hear  yer've  been  doin'  a  leetle  Declaration 
o'  Independencing  on  yer  own  account.  Wal,  it's 
sometimes  a  necessary  act  fer  folks  same  as  coun- 
tries ;  Lauretta  Ann,  I  reckon  Lammy  and  me 
could  relish  a  pot  of  coffee  to-night"  —  coffee  being 
a  Sunday-morning  treat. 

When  it  came  to  the  part  of  his  story  concerning 
'Ram's  taunt  and  his  fear  that  Bird  had  forgotten 
them,  his  mother  reassured  him  for  the  hundredth 
time  with  her  own  ample  faith,  but  he  quite  startled 
her  by  saying  emphatically :  — 

"That  is  all  right,  mother,  as  far  as  it  goes, 
but  we've  just  got  to  buy  that  fruit  farm  somehow." 
And  he  fell  asleep  that  night,  happy  in  making 
impossible  plans  for  the  purchase. 

It  was  perhaps  as  well  for  Lammy's  self-conceit 


i8o  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

that  he  did  not  hear  his  mother  talk  with  Mrs. 
Slocum,  who  came  in  about  nine  o'clock,  tearful, 
yet  at  the  same  time  in  a  threatening  rage,  de- 
manding that  he  be  **  whipped  thoro'  for  half  mur- 
dering her  harmless  boy  when  he  was  taking  an 
innercent  walk,  and  that  if  he  didn't  get  the  whip- 
pin',  she'd  get  a  warrant  immedjet." 

Mrs.  Lane  waited  until  she  had  finished  her  tirade, 
and  then  calling  Joshua,  who  had  retreated  to  the 
wood-shed,  said:  "  Mis'  Slocum  here  needs  a  warrant 
writ  hasty ;  jest  you  escort  her  down  to  the  Squire's, 
as  her  husband  don't  seem  intrested  to  go  with  her. 
I  hate  to  see  a  neighbour  obleeged  to  play  the  man 
and  risk  goin'  out  in  the  dark  alone." 

Then  as  her  adversary,  seeing  herself  outflanked, 
rose  to  go,  she  added  with  apparent  sympathy: 
**  Of  course  I  know  it's  hard  for  you  to  feel  'Ram's 
beat  by  one  half  his  size,  even  if  the  gate  post  did 
help  Lammy,  and  folks  '11  be  surprised  to  hear  it, 
but  you  mustn't  blame  him  too  much ;  it  was  maybe 
me,  his  mother,  in  him  worked  Lammy's  fists  so 
good."  And  Lauretta  Ann  looked  her  visitor  straight 
in  the  eyes.  Some  weeks  later  Mrs.  Slocum  had 
reason  to  remember  that  look. 


LAMMY  CONSULTS  OLD  LUCKY 

When  November  came,  Joshua  Lane  had  com- 
pleted his  work  of  preparing  the  fruit  farm  for 
the  auction,  according  to  Aunt  Jimmy's  wish  that  it 
should  be  in  full  running  order  when  sold. 

The  old  fowls  were  mostly  sold  off,  and  the  hen- 
house was  full  of  the  vigorous  laying  pullets  that 
mean  so  much  in  early  winter.  The  fall  cow  had 
calved,  and  the  two  or  three  yearlings  were  as  sleek 
as  does. 

When  the  time  came  for  the  division  of  the  fur- 
niture between  the  wives  of  the  three  Lane  brothers 
by  drawing  lots,  public  interest  again  awakened, 
and  Mrs.  Slocum  expressed  great  anxiety  lest  it 
should  not  be  done  fairly,  saying  to  her  husband : 
"It's  a  fussy,  mixed-up  business  anyway.  Why 
didn't  they  auction  off  the  stuff  and  let  folks  in  to 
see  it  done  fair  ?  They  do  say,  for  all  Miss  Jemima 
lived  so  plain,  she  had  stores  of  good  stuff  shut 
up   in    those   top   rooms   that   even   Dinah   Lucky 

i8i 


i82  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

never's  had  a  peek  at  when  she  went  to  houseclean. 
Those  old  mahogany  pieces  are  worth  money  at 
Northboro,  and  Lauretta  Ann's  cute  enough  to 
know  it,  but  I  don't  believe  those  other  slab-sided 
Lane  women  do ;  so  do  you  watch  your  chance  and 
make  them  an  offer  so  soon  as  it's  divided.  There's 
a  wardrobe  there,  solid  mahogany,  twice  as  big  as 
one  they  ask  fifty  dollars  for  in  the  *  curious '  shop. 
Most  likely  they'd  value  cheap,  new  stuff  better." 

If  it  had  not  been  rather  pathetic  to  Mrs.  Lane, 
this  breaking  up  of  a  house  where  she  had  been 
so  much  at  home,  the  day  of  the  division  would 
have  been  one  of  unalloyed  merriment. 

In  the  first  place,  owing  to  the  way  in  which 
Aunt  Jimmy  had  directed  the  drawing  should  be 
managed,  the  articles  were  not  valued  in  the  usual 
way  and  divided  so  that  each  of  the  three  women 
shared  alike,  but  merely  numbered,  the  duplicate 
slips  being  shaken  up  in  a  basket  and  drawn  by 
Probate  Judge  Ricker  for  Lauretta  Ann,  the  others 
drawing  for  themselves,  as  Joshua  preferred  that 
there  should  be  no  possible  chance  of  his  wife 
being  criticised.  While  she,  cheerful  and  thought- 
ful as  ever  of  the  comfort  of  others,  prepared  a 
nice  lunch  on  the  afternoon  appointed,  which  she 
and    Lammy   carried    to   the   fruit   farm,   and    had 


LAMMY   CONSULTS   OLD   LUCKY    183 

a  cheerful  fire  in  the  kitchen  stove,  with  a  big  pot  of 
fragrant  coffee  purring  away  on  top  of  it,  when  Jason 
and  Henry  Lane,  the  younger  brothers,  following  each 
other  closely,  drove  into  the  yard  with  their  wives. 

Mrs.  Henry  Lane  was  a  delicate,  sad-looking 
little  woman,  quite  above  the  average.  She  had 
been  one  of  the  teachers  in  the  Milltown  public 
school  at  the  time  of  her  marriage,  but  the  struggle 
to  wrest  a  living  from  a  small  hillside  farm, 
coupled  with  ill  health,  had  broken  her  spirit,  and 
she  sank  into  a  rocking-chair  and  began  to  jiggle 
the  baby  that  she  carried  to  and  fro. 

Mrs.  Jason,  on  the  contrary,  was  tall  and  gaunt, 
with  high  cheek-bones.  Life  had  not  been  very 
kind  to  her  either,  but  still  she  looked  as  if  she 
could  hold  her  own;  and  her  husband,  who  only 
reached  her  shoulder,  fairly  quaked  and  fell  away 
before  her  like  ill-made  jelly. 

"  Do  draw  up  to  the  table,  sisters-in-law  both," 
cried  Lauretta  Ann,  after  greeting  each  heartily. 
"You  must  have  hurried  dinner  to  get  down  here 
by  now,  and  I  always  do  feel  hungrier  the  first 
cool  days  than  when  winter  has  set  square  in." 

"  I  should  feel  better  for  a  cup  of  coffee,"  said 
Mrs.  Henry,  in  a  plaintive  voice;  "we  haven't  had 
any   for   more   than   two   weeks.      Henry  forgot  it 


1 84  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

when  he  went  to  the  store,  and  he  doesn't  get 
there  as  often  as  he  used,  now  that  the  mail  is 
deHvered  around  the  country  by  wagon.  I've  been 
using  tea  right  along,  and  I  think  it's  made  me 
nervous ;  besides,  the  last  I  bought  from  the  travel- 
ling spice-and-sugar  man  tasted  more  like  buckwheat 
shucks  and  musty  hay  than  anything  else." 

At  this  Henry  Lane's  head  sank  still  farther  into 
the  collar  of  his  coat,  which  was  three  sizes  too  big 
anyway,  and  he  began  whittling  recklessly  at  a 
hard-wood  clothespin  with  a  broken  knife,  which 
quickly  caused  a  deeply  cut  finger  and  much  con- 
sternation, as  the  sight  of  blood  always  made  his 
wife  faint  away,  and  the  present  occasion  was  no 
exception  to  the  rule. 

After  Lauretta  Ann  had  bathed  and  bound  up 
the  finger,  and  sent  Lammy  home  for  a  little  of 
the  cherry  cordial  for  which  she  was  famous,  she 
made  another  effort  to  serve  the  lunch,  and  finally 
succeeded  in  cheering  the  mournful  company  by 
sheer  force  of  good  temper. 

"  I  do  hope  you'll  draw  Grandma  Lane's  canopy- 
top  cradle  and  the  big  rocker  that  matches,  they'd 
be  such  comforts  to  you  as  you  are  fixed,"  Mrs. 
Joshua  said  to  Mrs.  Henry,  as  putting  a  friendly 
arm    about    her,    they  went  into   the   sitting   room, 


LAMMY   CONSULTS   OLD    LUCKY     185 

where  Judge  Ricker  was  busy  kneading  up  the 
numbered  papers  in  the  basket  as  carefully  as  if 
he  was  working  lard  into  flour  for  tea  biscuits,  and 
seated  themselves  in  a  semicircle. 

"  Do  you  begin,  sister-in-law  Jason,  and  you  follow 
next,  sister-in-law  Henry,"  said  Mrs.  Joshua,  laying 
her  hand,  which  would  tremble  in  spite  of  herself, 
on  Lammy's  shoulder.  Lammy,  by  the  way,  had 
grown  broader  and  stronger  and  lost  much  of  his 
timidity  of  manner  during  the  two  months  past. 
Whether  it  was  the  sense  of  responsibility  that 
working  with  the  college  men  had  given  him,  or 
his  determination  to  have  Bird  come  back,  his 
mother  could  not  decide,  while  his  father  chuckled 
whenever  the  matter  was  referred  to,  saying, 
"  'Tain't  neither ;  it  was  squarin'  up  at  'Ram  Slocum 
that  made  a  man  of  him ; "  and  though  Lauretta 
always  said,  "  Sho,  pa !  ain't  you  ashamed  of  aidin' 
and  abettin'  a  fight  ? "  her  smiling  expression  belied 
her  words. 

Mrs.  Jason  stepped  forward  and  drew  —  the 
canopy  cradle!  A  roar  of  laughter  greeted  her 
venture,  in  which  she  joined  grimly,  for  her  youngest 
offspring  was  a  six-foot  youth  of  seventeen,  while 
Mrs.  Henry  sighed  and  felt  secretly  injured,  though 
she  said  nothing. 


i86  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

Next  came  her  turn,  and  she  drew  a  worked  motto 
in  a  gilt  frame,  which  read,  "  The  Lord  Will  Pro- 
vide," whereat  she  smiled  feebly  and  whimpered, 
"  I've  tried  to  think  so,  but  I  do  wish  Henry  Lane 
would  help  Him  out  better."  Mrs.  Joshua  drew 
the  best  china,  Mrs.  Henry  the  tall  clock,  which 
she  straightway  declared  to  be  a  foot  higher  than 
any  of  her  rooms,  —  she  finally  traded  it  with 
Mrs.  Jason  for  the  cradle  and  rocking-chair, — until 
at  the  end  of  two  hours  the  last  number  left  the 
basket  and  three  tired  and  confused  women  wan- 
dered about  trying  to  collect  their  property. 

The  great  wardrobe  had  fallen  to  Mrs.  Jason's 
share,  but  upon  close  inspection  it  proved  to  be 
merely  stained  cherry  and  not  mahogany  at  all, 
and  its  owner  remarked  that  she  wished  some  one 
would  take  it  off  her  hands,  as  it  was  too  big  to 
go  in  her  door,  and  more  than  it  was  worth  to 
truck  it  home,  much  less  get  it  in  to  Northboro, 
where  it  would  be  possible  to  sell  it.  Her  husband, 
however,  ventured  to  say  it  would  make  a  good 
harness  closet  for  the  barn  and  keep  the  rats  from 
gnawing  the  leather ;  and  so  with  much  stretching 
of  muscles  and  groans  of  "  now  heave  together " 
it  was  loaded  with  the  other  articles  upon  the 
wagon. 


LAMMY   CONSULTS   OLD   LUCKY    187 

There  was  quite  a  lively  interchange  of  articles 
between  the  women  before  the  rooms  were  finally 
cleared,  but  in  the  end,  owing  to  Mrs.  Joshua's  good 
sense,  they  all  declared  themselves  well  satisfied. 
Mrs.  Jason  had  secured  a  good  sewing-machine,  and 
Mrs.  Henry  a  parlour  organ  for  which  her  melancholy 
spirit  pined ;  while  Mrs.  Joshua,  who  had  a  machine 
and  inwardly  detested  parlour  organs,  saying  that 
when  needful  she  could  do  her  own  groaning,  was 
made  happy  by  the  best  parlour  set,  her  own  chairs 
and  lounge  having  been  fatally  collapsed  by  her 
family  of  men  folks  of  assorted  ages. 

One  thing  they  all  regretted,  which  was  that 
Aunt  Jimmy  had  ordered  all  articles  of  every  kind 
not  mentioned  in  her  list  should  be  either  burned 
or  buried,  according  to  their  kind,  and  there  were 
many  things  dear  to  their  feminine  hearts  in  the 
mass  of  rubbish  that  had  been  accumulating  in 
garret  and  cellar,  barn  and  loft,  these  many  years 
as  well  as  much  that  was  salable  as  junk.  It  was 
of  no  use  to  object;  for  Joshua  was  determined 
to  carry  out  the  will  in  both  spirit  and  letter, 
and  though  it  had  amused  the  eccentric  old  lady 
to  collect  and  hoard  the  stuff,  she  was  equally  deter- 
mined that  it  should  never  be  exposed  to  the  gaze 
of    the    curious.      Joshua    knew    that    though    she 


i88  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

thought  him  slow  and  without  ambition,  she  trusted 
him,  and  he  was  not  going  to  disappoint  her. 

As  the  loaded  wagons  filed  out  of  the  yard,  a 
lean  figure  might  have  been  seen  peering  through 
the  branches  of  a  small  maple  tree  in  the  wood  lof 
just  above.  It  was  Abiram  Slocum,  who,  goaded 
by  his  wife,  was  trying  to  see  which  cart  contained 
the  wardrobe ;  for  she  had  come  back  from  North- 
boro  the  day  before  all  eagerness  to  get  possession 
of  it,  for  the  owner  of  the  "  curious  shop "  had 
said  if  the  wardrobe  was  of  the  size  and  quaUty 
she  described,  he  would  pay  her  fifty  dollars  for  it. 
Now  if  the  owner  would  let  it  go  for  fifteen  or  even 
twenty-five  dollars,  the  profit  would  give  her  new 
paper  and  a  carpet  for  her  best  room  ;  for  rich  as 
Slocum  was  reputed  to  be,  he  was  close-fisted  with 
his  wife,  and  she  was  obliged  to  pick  up  her  own 
pin  money  like  her  poorer  neighbours,  with  the  excep- 
tion that  she  had  not  succeeded  in  the  egg  business, 
owing  to  her  tendency,  whenever  possible,  to  give 
eleven  to  the  dozen,  and  sell  limed  eggs  at  a  high 
price  to  ignorant  people  who  desired  them  for 
setting. 

Abiram  presently  spied  the  wardrobe  on  Jason 
Lane's  load.     He  was  sorry  for  this,  for  Mrs.  Jason 


LAMMY   CONSULTS    OLD   LUCKY    189 

was  one  of  the  few  people  who  had  ever  got  the 
better  of  him  in  trade,  and  a  horse  trade  at  that, 
so  he  feared  she  would  never  sell  the  furniture, 
or  if  she  did,  would  extort  full  value. 

Nevertheless,  he  slipped  hastily  from  the  tree, 
cut  across  lots  toward  the  road  they  must  take  on 
their  way  home,  and  fifteen  minutes  later  met  them 
when  they  stopped  to  rest  the  horse,  as  if  he  was 
merely  sauntering  toward  the  pasture  for  his  cows, 
and  was  soon  engaged  in  general  conversation  upon 
farm  topics  that  gradually  led  up  toward  the  furni- 
ture. 

"  Heavy  load  you've  got  there,"  he  remarked ; 
**  ain't  that  there  closet  big  for  your  haouse  ? " 

Jason  was  about  to  say  that  it  was,  and  that  they 
were  going  to  put  it  in  the  barn,  when  he  felt  his 
wife  looking  daggers,  and  refrained. 

"  'Tis  big,  but  we  can  use  it,"  she  answered  dryly, 
starting  up  the  horse. 

"  How  about  selling  it  and  buying  somethin' 
handier  ? " 

"  I  ain't  anxious.  Get  along,  Whiteface,"  she  said, 
touching  the  horse  with  the  whip. 

"  I'll  give  yer  fifteen  dollars  for  it,  here  and  now, 
if  you'll  leave  it  to  my  house,"  Abiram  shouted  as  the 
wagon  began  to  move  away. 


190  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

"  'Twouldn't  pay  me  to  turn  back." 

"  Twenty  dollars  then." 

"  Nope,  I'm  in  a  hurry,  and  there's  a  pile  of  good 
seasoned  wood  in  the  thing." 

"She  knows  its  value,  sure  enough,"  he  said  to 
himself,  as  the  wagon  began  to  climb  the  hill. 

"  Give  yer  twenty-five,  and  yer  can  leave  it  here  by 
the  road." 

"I  reckon  you  might  unpack,  pa,"  the  gaunt 
woman  said,  a  smile  hovering  about  her  mouth,  add- 
ing to  Abiram,  "  Hand  up  the  money,  and  down  she 
goes." 

In  five  seconds  two  ten-dollar  bills  and  a  five, 
after  a  searching  scrutiny,  found  their  way  into  Mrs. 
Jason's  pocket,  and  the  clumsy  piece  of  furniture 
leaned  tipsily  against  the  pasture  fence  exposed  to 
the  full  glare  of  the  sun. 

Just  as  Jason  Lane  had  remounted  the  seat  and 
the  wagon  had  begun  to  move  again,  a  shout  made 
them  look  round.  There  stood  Abiram  in  the  middle 
of  the  road,  stamping  and  choking  with  rage  so  that 
he  could  barely  speak. 

"  Stop  !  hey,  stop  !  "  he  yelled ;  "  it  ain't  mahogany; 
it's  only  stained  wood.  Hey,  give  me  my  money 
back  or  I'll  hev  ye  arrested." 

"Who    said    it    was    mahogany?"    called     Mrs. 


LAMMY   CONSULTS   OLD   LUCKY    191 

Jason,  stopping  the  horse  and  fairly  beaming  with 
the  pleasure  of  the  contention. 

Abiram  hesitated  a  moment,  felt  himself  caught, 
stammered,  and  said,  "  Mis'  Slocum  did." 

"  Well,  go  ahead  and  arrest  Mrs.  Slocum,  then," 
chimed  in  Jason,  his  speech  for  once  meeting  his 
wife's  approval. 

"  Oh,  Lordy,  Lordy,  what  '11  she  say,  'n'  what  '11  I 
do  with  it.''"  he  moaned  to  himself,  completely 
caught  in  the  trap  set  by  his  own  greed. 

"  I  dunno,"  shouted  Mrs.  Jason  as  she  moved 
away,  "'nless  you  put  wheels  on  it  to  make  a 
wagon  and  hitch  that  sorrel  mare  I  sold  you  to 
it." 

4|»  #  «  «  «  « 

The  day  of  the  sale  drew  near.  All  that  remained 
to  be  done  was  the  destroying  of  the  rubbish,  and 
this  was  no  small  task. 

One  entire  day  a  bonfire  had  raged  in  the  back  lot, 
and  what  would  not  burn  was  the  next  day  taken 
in  the  ox-cart  thrice  filled  by  Joshua  himself  and 
dumped  carefully  in  the  great  bog-hole. 

This  quaking  bog  was  one  of  the  wonders  of 
the  neighbourhood  and  its  common  dumping  ground, 
even  though  it  could  only  be  reached  by  fording 
the  river  above  the  mill-pond.      To  the  eye  it  was 


192  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

merely  an  oozy-looking  swamp  tract,  such  as  are 
plentiful  near  the  back-water  of  rivers,  but  this 
particular  bit  was  an  ogre  that  swallowed  up  every- 
thing that  was  cast  in  it,  only  a  few  hours  being 
necessary  to  engulf,  without  leaving  a  sign,  an 
unlucky  cow  that  had  once  strayed  into  it.  So 
that  now  it  was  securely  fenced  about  except  at 
one  spot,  used  for  dumping,  which  was  protected 
with  logs  secured  to  driven  piles. 

Mrs.  Lane  watched  the  loading  of  the  wagon  very 
ruefully,  for  she  now  fully  realized  that  all  her  hopes 
concerning  the  fruit  farm  had  come  to  as  complete 
an  end  as  the  load  of  broken  china  and  rusty 
tinware.  When  she  saw  the  old  pewter  tea-pot, 
the  dents  supplemented  by  a  crack,  go  by  on  top 
of  a  basket  of  broken  flower  pots,  she  begged  her 
husband  to  let  her  keep  it,  saying :  — 

"  Even  if  it's  worth  nothin'  now,  even  for  drawin* 
tea,  Aunt  Jimmy  must  hev  meant  somethin'  kind 
when  she  left  it  to  me,  and  I'd  like  it  to  mind  me 
of  the  idea,  only  she  got  fogged  up  some  way  and 
didn't  plan  right;  fer  if  she  set  store  by  anything, 
it  was  by  that  pot  on  account  of  its  bein'  buried 
half  of  the  Revolution  with  great-grandmother 
Cuddy's  best  teaspoons  and  twenty  gold  guineas  all 
safe  inside." 


LAMMY   CONSULTS   OLD   LUCKY    193 

"  Lauretta  Ann,"  said  Joshua,  pausing  to  rest  the 
heavy  basket  on  the  tail-board  of  the  cart,  "  'tain't 
often  I  put  my  foot  down,  but  now  they've  set, 
heel  and  toe,  sock  and  leather,  both  of  'em,  I'm 
goin'  to  do  my  work  legal,  but  you've  been  treated 
shabby,  and  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  hev  that  tea-pot  set 
up  on  a  shelf  for  a  moniment  to  that  same.  If 
you're  too  Christian  to  resent,  I'm  goin'  to  do  it  for 
yer,  which  she,  bein'  my  aunt,  the  quarrel  is  for 
me  to  take  upon  me,  so  there!" 

Joshua  had  never  before  made  such  a  long  speech 
in  all  their  married  life,  and  his  wife,  fairly  awed  by 
his  earnestness,  said  no  more,  but  turning  away,  took 
the  private  pathway  homeward  that  led  through  the 
meadow  and  garden,  closing  the  gap  in  the  wall  with 
brush  as  she  went,  for  soon  now  she  would  have  no 
longer  any  right  to  come  and  go. 

That  afternoon  as  Lammy  came  home  from  school 
he  saw  in  the  distance  his  father  and  the  ox-team 
taking  the  last  load  along  the  highway,  and  as  he 
realized  how  soon  the  auction  would  take  place,  his 
heart  sank  and  his  feet  dragged  heavily  along. 
Turning  to  take  a  short  cut  through  the  lane, 
he  came  face  to  face  with  an  old  coloured  man 
with  snow-white,  woolly  hair,  who  was  scratching 
up  the  leaves  with  his  cane,  in  search  of  chestnuts. 


194  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

His  name  was  Nebuchadnezzar  Lucky,  or  Old 
Lucky,  as  he  was  called  for  short,  and  he  was  the 
husband  of  Dinah,  who  was  general  factotum  of  the 
village,  and  supported  her  man,  who  was  double 
her  age,  by  cooking,  nursing,  or  housecleaning,  as 
the  season  or  circumstances  demanded,  absolutely 
taking  pride  in  the  fact,  as  if  it  was  his  right  and 
his  due.  For  was  not  Old  Lucky  a  superior  being 
who  made  charms,  brewed  herb  medicines,  and 
told  fortunes,  in  addition  to  having  turns  of  "  see- 
ing things,"  which  caused  him  to  be  regarded 
with  awe  by  children  and  the  credulous  of  all 
ages,  even  in  this  prim  New  England  town  where 
witches  were  once  burned  ? 

"Howdy,  Massa  Lammy?  'Pears  like  the  squir'ls 
and  chippin  monkeys  has  got  all  the  chestnuts  this 
season,  and  dey  ain't  left  one  for  old  Uncle  Lucky 
to  bile  soft  so's  him  can  eat  'em.  You  ain't  got  a 
handful  laid  up  you  could  spare  'thout  missin',  I 
reckon  now  ? "  And  the  old  man  gave  a  persuasive, 
yet  terrifying  leer  with  eyes  that  were  so  badly 
crossed  that  they  fairly  seemed  tangled. 

An  idea  struck  Lammy,  as  the  tales  of  Lucky's 
power  came  back  to  him,  for  even  the  practical  folk 
who  scoffed,  allowed  that  there  was  something  queer 
in  it     He  would  consult  the  old  man  as  to  what  he 


LAMMY   CONSULTS    OLD   LUCKY    195 

could  do  to  get  the  fruit  farm  and  Bird  back  at  the 
same  time.  But  stop !  Where  was  the  money  to  come 
from  ?  For  it  was  well  known  among  his  customers 
that  Lucky  could  not  '*  see  things "  until  he  had 
rubbed  his  eyelids  with  a  piece  of  silver.  Lammy's 
money  was  all  in  the  bank.  Ah  !  he  had  it !  John 
O'More's  silver  dollar  that  was  hidden  away  in 
Bird's  paint-box ! 

Away  he  flew  like  a  scurrying  rabbit,  leaving  Old 
Lucky  muttering  in  amazement,  and  in  a  half-hour 
returned,  carrying  a  salt-bag  full  of  chestnuts  in  one 
hand  and  the  coin  wrapped  in  paper  in  the  other. 

The  old  man,  by  this  time  having  grown  tired  of 
his  useless  hunt  for  nuts,  had  gone  home,  and 
Lammy  followed  him  to  his  cabin  that  was  perched 
on  the  edge  of  the  bank  overhanging  the  mill  stream. 
Lucky  was  sitting  in  an  arm-chair  by  the  window 
when  Lammy  entered  and  stammered  out  his  wish 
and  request  for  advice,  at  the  same  time  offering 
his  bag  of  nuts  and  the  coin  which  he  first  polished 
on  his  trousers. 

If  Lucky  was  surprised  at  the  size  of  the  offering, 
his  usual  fee  being  a  quarter,  while  he  never  refused 
a  dime,  he  did  not  show  it,  but  felt  the  money  care- 
fully, passed  it  across  his  dim  eyes,  munched  a  nut 
or  two,  and  falling  back  in  his  chair,  covered  his 


196  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

head  with  a  red  and  yellow  handkerchief  and  began 
to  mutter,  beckoning  Lammy  to  come  near  and  lis- 
ten, which  he  did,  scarcely  daring  to  breathe.  The 
mutterings  went  on  for  several  minutes,  and  then 
took  the  form  of  words. 

"Take  —  a  —  shotgun,"  said  the  voice  in  a  tone 
meant  to  be  hollow,  but  which  stopped  at  being 
cracked,  "  load  him  wif  bullets  you  make  umsself, 
go  up  on  de  churchyard  hill  and  shoot  der  shadder 
of  a  Christmas  tree  on  a  —  black,  —  dark  night, — 
an'  den,  —  an'  den  —  " 

"  Then  what  ? "  besought  Lammy,  in  an  agony 
of  suspense. 

"  Den  you'll  hear  sumpfin' !  "  shouted  Lucky,  sud- 
denly pulling  the  handkerchief  from  his  face  and 
fixing  Lammy  with  a  cross-eyed  stare  that  was  para- 
lyzing. 

"  But  recommember,"  Lucky  added,  shaking  his 
forefinger  ominously,  "  make  dem  bullets  out  o' 
sumpfin'  yo'  find,  not  bought  nor  lead  uns,  but  sump- 
fin'  white  like  silver,  or  dis  year  charm  hit  won't 
work." 

"  But  where  shall  I  find  it  ? "  gasped  Lammy,  so 
much  in  earnest  that  he  did  not  realize  the  absurdity 
of  what  the  old  man  said. 

This  question   seemed  to  take  the  magician   out 


LAMMY   CONSULTS   OLD   LUCKY    197 

of  his  depth,  and  annoyed  him  not  a  little.  After 
casting  his  eyes  helplessly  about,  they  chanced  to 
rest  on  the  stream  below  the  window,  when  he 
quickly  closed  them  and  whispered,  "  Yo'  must  look 
in  water  —  not  in  a  pond,  but  in  running  water!" 
after  which  he  refused  to  say  another  word. 

When  Lammy  reached  home,  his  mother  was  set- 
ting the  supper  on  the  table,  while  his  father  and 
brothers  were  going  over  the  same  old  arguments 
as  to  the  possibility  or  impossibility  of  buying  the 
fruit  farm.  Lammy  smiled  to  himself  as  he  lifted 
Twinkle  to  his  shoulder  and  then  put  the  dog  on 
a  chair  beside  him,  his  usual  place  at  meal-times, 
where  he  waited,  one  ear  up  and  one  down,  until  it 
was  time  to  be  fed. 

No  one  noticed  how  red  the  boy's  cheeks  were 
and  how  his  eyes  shone,  as  he  hurried  from  supper 
to  learn  his  lessons,  that  he  might  have  time  in  the 
morning  to  begin  his  search  for  metal  for  the  magic 
bullets  before  going  to  school.  He  thought  if  he 
had  the  material,  all  else  would  be  easy,  for  there 
was  an  old  bullet-mould  in  the  workroom  in  the 
bam,  where  mending  was  done,  also  an  iron  pot  that 
had  been  used  for  melting  solder. 

He  did  not  tell  his  mother  of  his  plan,  not  that 
he  meant  in  any  way  to  deceive  her;   but  if   she 


198  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

knew  nothing,  the  surprise  at  the  result  would  be 
all  the  greater. 

For  the  next  two  or  three  days  Lammy  went  up 
and  down  the  river  banks  from  the  Mill  Farm  to 
the  upper  fork,  apparently  as  aimlessly  as  in  the 
time  that  he  was  dubbed  •*  Look-out  Johnny,"  and 
the  neighbours  nodded,  and  said,  "The  brace  he 
got  fightin'  didn't  last,  —  he's  trampin'  again,"  while 
his  mother  took  it  to  heart  and  thought  it  was 
because  he  was  grieving  for  Bird,  as  they  had  heard 
nothing  definite  or  satisfactory  from  her  for  more 
than  a  month,  and  then  only  a  few  words  on  a  card 
inquiring  for  Twinkle. 

When  Saturday  came,  Lammy  started  off  in  the 
morning  early,  asking  his  mother  for  a  lunch  to 
carry  with  him,  which  was  nothing  unusual.  This 
day,  instead  of  heading  downstream,  he  started 
above  the  mill  and  followed  the  river  up  toward 
the  woods.  All  the  forenoon  he  looked  here  and 
there,  and  after  eating  his  luncheon  came  out  of 
the  woods  near  where  the  highway  branched  and 
crossed  the  ford  on  the  way  to  the  bog  dumping 
ground. 

He  stood  there  a  few  minutes,  idly  watching  the 
dead  leaves  swirl  along,  and  an  occasional  fish  dart 
by,   when   his   eyes  became   fixed   upon   an   object 


LAMMY   CONSULTS   OLD   LUCKY    199 

lying  close  under  a  big  stone  in  mid-stream ;  it 
glistened  as  the  sun  shone  upon  it,  and  then  turned 
dull  again.  Whatever  it  was,  it  fascinated  him 
strangely,  and  jumping  from  stone  to  stone,  he  soon 
reached  it.  "  Only  an  old  tin  pan,"  he  muttered  in 
disgust;  "that  won't  make  bullets." 

As  luck  would  have  it,  the  stone  upon  which  he 
stood  turned,  making  him  jump  splash  into  the  water, 
kicking  the  pan  as  he  went.  When  he  recovered 
himself,  he  looked  about  for  footing,  and  there  where 
the  pan  had  been,  to  his  amazement,  lying  almost 
at  his  feet,  was  the  pewter  tea-pot! 

"However  did  that  get  here?"  he  exclaimed;  but 
the  answer  was  so  simple  that  he  guessed  it  at 
once.  The  tea-pot,  in  company  with  the  pan,  had 
been  jolted  from  the  ox-cart  in  crossing  the  ford 
on  its  way  to  the  dump,  and  so  escaped  being 
swallowed. 

"  Hurrah !  "  cried  Lammy,  picking  up  the  treasure 
and  making  his  way  to  land,  where  he  danced 
about  in  glee.  "This  '11  melt  into  bullets  first  rate, 
and  it's  kind  of  white  Uke  silver  if  it's  cleaned. 
When  it's  melted,  pop  can't  call  it  *an  eyesore'  or 
a  'moniment,'  so  it's  no  harm  for  me  to  take  it 
home." 

He  could  not  tell  why,  but  he  took  off   his  coat 


200  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

and  wrapped  it  carefully  around  the  tea-pot,  and 
then  slipped  from  the  highway  into  the  woods 
again. 

When  he  reached  home,  it  was  still  early  after- 
noon. His  father  was  cutting  wood  in  the  upper  lot, 
and  his  mother  had  gone  to  Northboro  with  eggs  for 
her  Saturday  customers,  so  Lammy  had  the  place 
to  himself. 

First  he  buried  the  tea-pot  deep  in  the  feed  bin, 
and  taking  the  key  of  the  house  from  its  hiding- 
place  under  the  door-mat,  stole  up  to  his  room  for 
dry  shoes  and  socks,  as  it  was  a  cold  day  and  his 
sopping  feet  were  already  making  him  shiver  and 
feel  tight  in  the  throat.  Somehow  the  possession 
of  the  tea-pot  gave  "^him  an  uneasy  feeling.  Did  it 
really  belong  to  him  ?  He  hung  about  the  house 
for  a  time,  then  walked  straight  out  the  gate  and 
down  to  the  Squire's  office  in  the  town  house. 
This  same  "  Squire "  was  a  man  of  education  as 
well  as  a  lawyer,  and  Lammy's  knock  was  answered 
by  a  cheery  "  Come  in ! "  which  he  did,  saying,  all 
in  one  breath  and  quite  reckless  of  grammar, 
"  Please,  sir,  if  I  find  anything  that's  been  took  to 
the  dump,  but  fell  off  and  not  been  swallowed, 
would  it  be  mine  to  make  bullets  of  ? " 

The    Squire    looked   up    from    under   his    bushy 


LAMMY   CONSULTS    OLD    LUCKY    201 

eyebrows  and  smiled  at  the  lad  encouragingly. 
"Certainly  it  would  be  yours,  my  boy;  what  is 
intentionally  thrown  away  is  fair  plunder  for  any 
one."  And  with  a  hasty  "Thank  you,  sir,"  Lammy 
was  oflf  again  with  an  easy  conscience,  to  find  an 
old  axe,  break  up  the  tea-pot,  and  melt  it  if 
possible  before  his  parents'  return.  Ah,  but  Lucky's 
charm  was  surely  working. 

"  Strange  child  that,"  said  the  Squire,  looking 
after  him ;  "  he'll  either  turn  out  a  fool  or  a  genius. 
There  is  no  middle  path  for  such  as  he.  I  must 
keep  my  eye  on  him." 


XI 

THE   PEWTER   TEA-POT 

When  Lammy  reached  home  he  hurried  into 
the  barn,  carefully  closing  both  door  and  windows. 
In  looking  about  for  an  old  axe  whose  edge  would 
not  be  hurt  by  chopping  metal,  he  stumbled  over  a 
rusty  anvil  that  was  half  buried  in  litter.  This  he 
managed  to  drag  into  the  light;  then  digging  the 
tea-pot  from  the  feed  bin,  he  began  his  work. 

First  he  wrenched  off  the  cover  and  battered  it 
into  small  pieces,  which  he  put  into  the  solder  pot. 
Chop,  chop !  the  handle  gave  way  next,  then  the 
queer  sprawling  legs.  He  made  several  blows  at 
the  thick,  clumsy,  curved  spout  without  hitting  it,  for 
his  hands  trembled  with  excitement  combined  with 
the  chill  of  his  wet  feet. 

Finally  he  landed  a  square  blow  a  little  above 
where  the  spout  joined  the  body,  but  instead  of  cut- 
ting the  metal  quite  through,  the  blade  wedged,  so 
he  dropped  the  axe  and  seizing  the  tea-pot,  pro- 
ceeded to  wrench  off  the  spout. 


THE   PEWTER   TEA-POT  203 

"  It's  got  tea  leaves  stuck  in  it,"  he  said  to  himself, 
as  he  pulled  and  twisted  at  it.  "  Nope,  brown 
paper,"  as  a  small  roll  of  paper,  the  size,  thickness, 
and  length  of  a  cigarette  fell  to  the  floor.  To  this  he 
paid  no  attention,  but  continued  to  chop  at  the  tea- 
pot until  it  was  all  in  bits,  tightly  packed  in  the 
solder  pot,  and  covered  with  an  old  plate. 

As  he  went  to  push  back  the  anvil  he  stepped  on 
the  little  bit  of  rolled-up  paper  and  idly  picking  it 
up,  turned  it  between  his  fingers,  but  with  his  mind 
wholly  filled  with  the  making  of  the  magic  bullets. 
It  was  too  late  to  melt  the  pewter  now ;  he  would 
have  to  wait  until  Monday  afternoon.  How  could 
he  ever  eat  two  more  breakfasts,  dinners,  and  sup- 
pers with  the  precious  stuff  in  his  possession.? 

As  his  hands  worked,  the  stout  oiled  paper  be- 
tween his  fingers  unrolled  by  their  warmth,  as  a  leaf 
unfolds  in  the  heat,  and  showed  something  green 
inside. 

Lammy  looked,  and  his  heart  almost  stopped  beat- 
ing, while  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  seemed  to  be 
floating  past,  trailing  cloud  petticoats  and  dancing, 
for  the  green  stuff  was  money,  —  clean,  crisp  bank- 
notes rolled  as  hard  as  a  pencil ! 

Lammy  sank  down  all  in  a  heap  on  a  pile  of 
straw,   his  eyes   closed  and   his  fist  clutching  the 


204  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

little  bundle  like  a  vice.  It  was  several  minutes 
before  he  could  steady  himself  sufficiently  to  part 
the  tightly  twisted  roll  and  count  his  treasure,  which 
was  so  compact  that  he  had  to  use  great  care.  Fortu- 
nately the  oil  paper  had  kept  the  money  dry  in  spite 
of  the  bath  in  the  river,  in  addition  to  a  bit  of  cork 
that  had  been  rammed  tightly  into  the  spout,  but 
which  Lammy  had  not  noticed  as  it  dropped  out  at 
the  first  chop. 

At  last  a  bill  peeled  from  the  roll.  Lammy 
smoothed  it  out,  and  rubbed  his  eyes.  Could  it  be  ? 
He  had  never  seen  a  bank  bill  for  a  larger  sum  than 
twenty  dollars  before,  but  five  hundred  was  printed 
on  this.  Then  he  fell  to  work  in  earnest,  and  after 
many  stops  to  moisten  his  fingers,  twelve  of  the 
green,  damp-smelling  bits  of  paper  lay  spread  upon 
the  barn  floor,  while  Lammy  was  saying  over  to  him- 
self, "  Twelve  times  five  are  sixty  —  sixty  hundred 
dollars  —  ten  into  sixty  six  times  —  six  thousand  dol- 
lars !  Oh,  mother  —  Bird  —  the  fruit  farm !  "  he 
fairly  shouted.  This  then  was  what  Aunt  Jimmy's 
will  had  meant,  after  all. 

Gathering  the  bills  into  his  grimy  handkerchief, 
blackened  by  polishing  the  tea-pot,  he  buttoned  them 
inside  his  shirt  and  rushed  into  the  house  at  the 
moment  his  mother  was  getting  out  of  the  chaise 


THE    PEWTER   TEA-POT  205 

and  bringing  in  the  week's  supply  of  groceries,  for 
which  she  had  traded  her  eggs. 

His  father  having  come  home  from  the  wood  lot, 
took  the  horse  to  the  barn,  fed  and  bedded  him 
immediately,  —  for  old  Graylocks  never  went  fast 
enough  to  become  heated,  —  and  then  came  to  the 
kitchen  sink  to  make  his  toilet  for  supper. 

Lammy  sat  waiting  his  time  by  the  stove  with  his 
feet  in  the  oven  door,  trying  to  suppress  the  shivers 
that  ran  through  him.  Would  his  mother  ever  put 
the  things  away  and  stop  bustling.?  They  could 
not  have  supper  until  late  that  night,  for  the  shop 
where  his  brothers  worked  was  running  over  time, 
and  they  would  not  be  home  before  seven. 

Mrs.  Lane  put  the  potatoes  on  to  fry,  arranged  the 
steak  in  the  broiler  (she  was  the  only  woman  in 
Laurelville  who  did  not  fry  her  meat),  and  then  sat 
down  to  rest,  keeping  one  eye  upon  the  clock. 
Presently  she  caught  sight  of  Lammy's  face,  and 
promptly  jumped  up  again  to  grab  one  of  his  hands 
and  ask  anxiously  :  "  Be  you  feelin'  sick,  Lammy 
Lane  ?  Your  hands  is  frogs  and  your  cheeks  hot 
coals.  I  do  hope  and  pray  it  ain't  goin'  to  be  a 
fever  spell  o'  any  kind." 

"  Spell  be  blowed ! "  said  Joshua,  who  was  now 
seated   by   the    lamp,    enjoying   his    weekly    paper. 


2o6  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

"He's  been  a-traipsin'  round  all  day  among  them 
soggy  marshes  that  fairly  belches  chills  in  fall  o' 
the  year,  on  a  snack  o'  cold  food.  What  he  needs 
is  a  lining  o'  hot  vittles ;  likewise  do  I." 

But  Lammy  had  left  the  stove  and  stood  by 
the  table,  his  hands  clasped  tightly,  and  such  a 
strange  expression  on  his  face  that  both  his 
parents  were  startled. 

"I  ain't  sick  —  that  is,  not  much,"  he  began, 
"though  I'm  awfully  hungry,  but  I've  got  something 
to  tell  out  first." 

Then  he  began  slowly,  and  told  about  his  visit 
to  Old  Lucky  and  his  search  for  bullet  material. 

Here  his  father  interrupted  him  with,  "  Shucks, 
Lammy  Lane,  ain't  you  got  better  sense  than  to 
throw  away  dollars  ? "  but  his  mother  gave  Joshua 
a  look,  and  said :  "  Don't  you  shet  him  off  the 
track  until  he's  through.  I  knew  he  wasn't  work- 
ing in  his  mind  like  he's  done  lately  for  nothing." 

When  he  told  of  chopping  up  the  tea-pot,  his 
father  chuckled,  but  his  mother  shivered  and 
broke  in  with,  "  How  could  you  ever  set  an  axe 
in  it.?  It  seems  to  me  'bout  as  bad  as  cuttin'  up 
poor  Aunt  Jimmy  for  sausages  ! " 

When  he  came  to  the  end,  and  pulling  out  his 
handkerchief,  spread  the  contents  before  his  parents. 


THE   PEWTER   TEA-POT  207 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lane  stood  grasping  the  table  edge 
and  staring  white  and  wide  eyed,  until  Joshua  broke 
the  silence  with  "  Jehosophat  I  Nancy  Hanks !  but 
I'm  kneesprung  dumbfounded  !  " 

"  And  you'd  better  be ! "  snapped  Lauretta  Ann, 
as  nearly  as  she  could  snap  at  her  husband ;  "  after 
all  you've  said  against  the  memory  of  sainted  Aunt 
Jimmy,  and  sneered  and  snipped  at  her  will  and 
meanings !  Don't  you  see  now  how  she  fixed  things 
so's  I'd  get  the  farm  by  biddin'  it  in  fair  without 
bein'  hashed  over  in  public  for  gettin'  more'n  my 
equal  share  ?  SJie  trusted  me  to  fetch  that  pot 
home  and,  by  usin'  it  daily,  find  it  wouldn't  pour 
out,  as  I  would  have  did  and  diskiver  the  money. 
Oh,  Joshua,  Joshua,  let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you  an' 
all  husbands  not  to  browbeat  their  trustin'  wives, 
as  women's  allers  the  furthest  seein'  sect." 

"  Fur  seein',  shucks ! "  snorted  Joshua,  who  had 
enjoyed  his  recent  authority  too  well  to  part  with 
it ;  "  between  you  and  Aunt  Jimmy  yer'd  made  a 
fine  mess  o'  it,  and  it  took  a  male,  though  not  a 
full-grown  one,  to  pull  yer  out  of  it,  for  yer  allowed 
yer'd  only  stick  up  the  pot  for  a  moniment  an'  not 
use  it  on  account  o'  its  taste  tainting  the  tea.  It 
sartinly  took  us  men  folks  to  dig  yer  out  o'  it; 
didn't  it,  Lammy?" 


2o8  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

"  Now  as  we  know  Aunt  Jimmy's  intentions  was 
that  this  be  kept  close,  close  it'll  be  kept,  and  we'd 
better  pack  up  them  bills  until  we  can  bank  'em 
Monday,  in  case  Mis'is  Slocum  should  be  drawd 
to  look  in  the  winder  to  see  if  we  are  havin'  a  hot 
or  cold  supper,  and  real  or  crust  coffee." 

"  But  mother,"  said  Lammy,  as  soon  as  he  could 
be  heard,  "when  shall  we  get  Bird  back?  Need 
we  wait  until  the  auction  ? " 

"  Sakes  alive,  child,  I'll  write  as  soon  as  I  get 
my  head,  but  there's  two  letters  unanswered  now, 
and  I'm  afeared  they've  moved  again.  Somehow, 
with  all  we've  got  to  face  just  now,  I  think  'twould 
be  better  waitin'  until  everything's  settled  up  cer- 
tain and  we've  got  the  place  safe  and  sound. 
Then  pa  and  me  and  you  could  kind  er  celebrate, 
and  take  a  trip  to  N'York  and  get  her.  I  ain't 
never  been  there  but  onct  in  my  life,  an'  that  was 
to  a  funeral  when  it  wasn't  seemin'  fer  me  to  look 
about  to  see  things,  and  it  rained  and  I  spoiled 
my  best  bunnit.  I  reckon,  now  we  can  afford  it, 
'twould  set  us  all  up  to  go  on  a  good  lively  errand 
o'  mercy,  and  maybe  see  a  circus  too  if  there's  any 
there,  and  eat  a  dinner  bought  ready  made.  Seems 
to  me  I  should  relish  some  vittles  I  hadn't  cooked, 
and  to  step  off  without  washing  the  dishes." 


THE   PEWTER   TEA-POT  209 

"  Say,  Lauretta  Ann,"  drawled  Joshua,  presently, 
when  Lammy,  hugging  Twinkle  and  telUng  him 
the  news,  had  gone  upstairs  to  look  at  Bird's 
paint-box,  and  sit  in  the  dark  and  think  of  the 
bliss  of  going  to  New  York  and  surprising  her 
his  very  self,  "who  do  you  calkerlate  owns  them 
six  thousand  dollars  f"  rolling  the  words  about  in 
his  mouth  like  a  dainty  morsel. 

"Why,  me,  —  that  is  we,  of  course!"  she  gasped. 
"  You  don't  think  there's  anything  wrong  in  takin'  it } 
Ah,  Joshua,  you  dont  think  there's  any  wrong  in 
takin'  it?" 

"  Yes  and  no,  not  that  egzactly ;  but  as  the  Squire 
gave  Lammy  the  law  about  things  that's  been 
throwed  out,  it  'pears  to  me  the  find  is  hisn." 

"  Well,  if  it  is,  I'm  glad,  and  it's  the  Lord's  doin' 
anyway.  We  can  put  the  deed  in  Lammy's  name, 
and  earn  him  good  schoolin'  out  o'  it  along  o'  little 
Bird,  for  nobody  knows  how  I've  missed  that  young- 
ster a  runnin'  in  and  out  these  last  months  and  feel- 
ing her  head  on  my  shoulder  times  when  she  was 
lonesome,  and  I  mothered  her  in  the  rocker  before 
the  fire.  What  with  the  high  school,  and  the 
painting  school,  and  the  female  college  over  at 
Northboro,  there's  all  the  eddication  she'll  need 
for  years   close   handy,    and   it's   no   wrong  to  the 


210  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

others,  for  there's  this  place  for  them  to  divide, 
and  they're  strong  and  likely." 

"  Remember  the  auction  ain't  took  place  yet, 
Lauretta  Ann,  and  don't  set  too  sure." 

"Joshua,  the  Lord  has  planned  this  out;  it  can't  go 
astray  now." 

"Amen,"  said  Joshua;  "but  how  about  Old  Lucky's 
spell  ?  and  supposin'  Mr.  Clarke  takes  a  fancy  to  bid 
on  the  fruit  farm.  I  hear  he's  been  for  land  here- 
about." 

"  Father,  I'm  shocked  at  you,  and  you  nephew-in- 
law  to  a  deacon !  " 

Mrs.  Lane  went  upstairs  to  look  for  Lammy  and 
found  him  lying  across  his  bed  in  an  uneasy  sleep, 
with  Twinkle  keeping  guard  by  him,  while  his 
fatigue  and  the  soaked  boots  in  the  corner  told  the 
cause  for  the  illness  that  was  creeping  over  him. 

"Pa,"  called  Mrs.  Lane  down  the  backstairs,  in 
a  husky  whisper,  "  do  you  go  for  Dr.  Jedd  without 
waiting  for  the  boys  to  come  in.  Lammy's  chilled 
and  fevered  and  sweatin'  all  to  onct,  and  I  can't 
read  nothing  out  of  such  crossway  sinktoms.  Dear 
me  suz,  it  does  never  rain  but  it  pours !  Say,  Joshua, 
you'd  best  fetch  that  money  up  here  to  be  put  in  the 
iron  maple-sugar  pot  afore  you  go." 

By  the  time  Dr.  Jedd  arrived  Lammy  was  in  a 


THE   PEWTER   TEA-POT  2ii 

heavy  sleep,  from  which  he  roused  at  the  physi- 
cian's firm  touch  on  his  pulse,  and  began  to  talk 
wildly. 

At  first  he  seemed  to  think  that  Dr.  Jedd  was 
Old  Lucky,  for  he  cried,  "  I  gave  you  the  silver 
dollar  and  I  made  the  bullets,  but  when  I  went  to 
shoot  them,  they  turned  into  polliwogs  and  went 
downstream."  Then  raising  himself,  he  shook  his 
pillow  violently,  saying,  "  You  were  a  bad  man  to 
tell  me  lies.  How  could  I  shoot  the  shadow  of  a 
Christmas  tree  on  a  dark  night .''  Cause  when  it's  dark 
there  are'nt  any  shadows." 

Next  he  seemed  to  imagine  that  he  was  tramping 
over  the  hills  with  the  surveyors,  and  he  had  an 
argument  with  himself,  as  to  whether  feet  made 
rods  or  rods  feet,  and  then  mumbled  something 
about  a  +  b  that  they  could  not  understand  for  they 
did  not  know  that  one  of  his  new  friends  had  started 
him  in  Algebra. 

"  He  is  tired  out,"  said  Dr.  Jedd,  presently,  "  and 
in  his  mind  more  than  his  body.  The  professor 
over  at  the  camp  told  me  that  he  had  a  great  head 
for  mathematics,  and  was  always  asking  questions 
and  working  out  sums  and  things  on  every  scrap 
of  paper  he  came  across,  and  that  when  paper  gave 
out  he'd   smooth   a  place  in   the  dirt  and   scratch 


212  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

away  on  that  with  a  nail.  Said  that  it  was  a  pity 
that  he  couldn't  go  to  the  Institute  at  Northboro 
and  be  fitted  for  the  School  of  Mines  in  New  York. 
Told  me  if  he  ever  did,  he  could  put  him  in  the  way 
of  free  tuition  at  least." 

"  The  pewter  tea-pot !  Take  Bird  out  of  the 
pewter  tea-pot ;  she's  stuck  in  the  spout,  and  when 
you  chop  it  off,  it  will  kill  her !  "  shrieked  Lammy, 
jumping  out  of  bed. 

Dr.  Jedd  gave  him  some  quieting  medicine,  and 
he  soon  sank  back  among  the  pillows,  with  a  burning 
red  spot  of  fever  on  each  cheek. 

"  Is  it  typhoid  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Lane,  her  face  white 
and  drawn  ;  "  Janey  died  of  that." 

"  It  is  a  fever,  but  I  cannot  be  quite  sure  of  exactly 
which  one,"  said  the  doctor,  opening  a  little  case 
he  carried  and  taking  out  a  fine  needlelike  in- 
strument and  a  bottle  of  alcohol.  "  If  I  wait  to 
know  until  it  develops,  we  shall  be  losing  time ; 
if  I  prick  his  finger  and  send  a  drop  of  blood  to 
Dr.  Devlin  in  Northboro,  who  makes  a  study  of 
such  things,  he  will  look  at  it  through  his  microscope 
and  tell  me  in  the  morning  exactly  where  we  stand." 
So  after  washing  a  spot  clean  with  alcohol  he  took 
the  little  red  drop  that  tells  so  much  to  the  really 
wise   physician   and    prevents   all   the    mistakes   of 


THE   PEWTER   TEA-POT  213 

guess-work,  and  then  began  to  prepare  some  medi- 
cines and  write  his  directions  for  the  night. 

"  Is  there  any  one  you  would  like  me  to  send  up 
to  stay  with  you,  Mrs  Lane  ? "  the  doctor  asked  as 
he  prepared  to  leave.  "  This  may  be  a  tedious 
illness,  and  it  won't  do  for  you  to  wear  yourself  out 
in  the  beginning." 

"  Byme-by,  perhaps,"  Mrs.  Lane  replied  "  but  not 
jest  now  while  he  talks  so  wild.  You  know,  doctor, 
how  the  best  of  folks  will  repeat  and  spy.  Joshua 
ain't  overbusy,  and  he'll  help  me  out." 

"  What  is  that  thing  hanging  round  Lammy's 
neck  by  a  string  under  his  shirt  that  he  has  such 
a  tight  hold  of?" 

"  It's  the  key  of  the  lower  one  of  his  chest  of 
drawers  ;  he  keeps  odds  and  ends  in  it  that  he  sets 
store  by,  and  I  guess  he's  lost  it  so  many  times 
that  he's   took  to  hanging  it  on   safe  by  a  string." 

The  next  afternoon  when  Dr.  Jedd  came,  the 
smile  on  his  face  reassured  Mrs.  Lane  even  before 
he  said :  "  No,  it  isn't  typhoid  —  merely  plain  malaria, 
and  his  worrying  so  much  about  Bird  has  made 
him  light-headed.  What  has  become  of  the  child  ? 
Tired  as  she  was  in  the  spring,  I  would  not  answer 
for  her  little  wild-wood  ladyship  after  a  hot  summer 
in  the  city." 


214  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

Then  Mrs.  Lane  told  sadly  of  the  frequent  invita- 
tions and  the  unanswered  letters. 

"  I'm  going  to  town  for  a  little  vacation  after 
the  holidays,  and  I  will  look  her  up  myself,"  said 
the  doctor,  cheerily. 

It  was  many  weeks  after  the  night  that  Lammy 
chopped  up  the  pewter  tea-pot  and  made  his 
wonderful  discovery  before  the  fever  left  him, 
and  then  he  felt  so  limp  and  weak  that  after  sit- 
ting up  a  few  minutes  he  was  glad  to  crawl  into 
bed  again.  His  mind  had  only  wandered  during 
the  first  two  or  three  days,  but  frequently  he 
would  wake  up  with  a  start  from  troubled  sleep 
and  ask  his  mother  anxiously  if  it  was  really  true 
about  the  tea-pot  or  only  a  dream.  He  was  bitterly 
disappointed  when  the  night  before  the  auction 
came  and  the  doctor  told  him  that  he  must  not 
go,  even  though  his  big  brother  Nelhs  had  offered 
to  put  the  great  arm-chair  in  the  cart  and  take 
him  down  in  that  way,  all  wrapped  in  comfortables. 
For  the  doctor  said  the  excitement  of  thinking 
of  the  matter  was  enough  without  being  there. 

On  his  way  out,  Dr.  Jedd  spent  a  few  moments 
before  he  went  home,  chatting  to  Joshua  in  the 
kitchen. 


THE   PEWTER  TEA-POT  215 

"To-morrow  the  tug  of  war  is  coming,  Joshua," 
said  the  doctor;  "all  of  your  neighbours  wish  you 
well  and  set  great  store  by  your  wife,  and  we 
hate  to  think  of  seeing  strangers  in  the  fruit  farm. 
If  you  can  think  up  any  way  that  we  could  ac- 
commodate or  help  you  out  to  buy  it,  why,  just 
speak  out  If  the  two  thousand  dollars  Miss 
Jemima  left  my  wife  would  make  any  difference 
to  you,  she  bid  me  say  that,  as  she  knows  your 
dread  of  mortgages,  she  would  loan  it  on  your 
note  of  hand,"  at  the  same  time  holding  out  his 
own  toward  Joshua  as  if  it  already  held  the 
proffered  money. 

Joshua's  honest  face  flushed  with  pleasure  at  the 
implied  trust,  yet  he  could  hardly  keep  the  smile 
from  his  lips  and  a  mysterious  twinkle  from  his 
eyes  as  he  shook  the  doctor's  hand  heartily  and 
answered:  "We're  much  obleeged,  and  we'll  never 
forget  that  you  and  Mis'is  Jedd  held  us  well 
enough  in  esteem  to  make  the  offer,  but  I  reckon 
the  only  way  we  could  come  to  own  the  fruit  farm 
would  be  by  buying  it  out  fair  and  square.  I 
don't  say  but  I'd  be  downhearted  to  see  it  go  by 
me,  especially  to  'Biram  Slocum,  for  they've  been 
days,  doc,  when  I've  even  kind  o'  pictured  out 
the  two  farms,  ourn  and  it,  joined  fast  by  your  sellin' 


2i6  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

me  that  wood  bluff  that  runs  in  between  from  the 
highway.  But  you  know  the  sayin',  doc,  'Man 
proposes,  woman  disposes,'  and  all  that." 

This  time  the  doctor  caught  the  wink  that  Joshua's 
near  eye  gave  in  spite  of  itself,  but  thought  that  it 
referred  to  Aunt  Jimmy's  peculiarities. 

"Well,"  said  the  doctor,  deliberately,  a  genial 
smile  spreading  over  his  features,  "one  thing  I'll 
do  to  help  out  your  picturing,  as  you  call  it.  If 
luck  should  turn  so  that  you  buy  the  fruit  farm, 
I'll  sell  you  the  wood  knoll  for  what  I  gave  for 
it,  and  that's  the  first  time  I  ever  considered  parting 
with  it,  though  I've  had  no  end  of  good  offers." 

"  Here's  the  boys  jest  come  home  in  time  to 
witness  that  there  remark  o'  yourn.  Ain't  yer 
gettin'  kind  er  rash  'n'  hasty,  doc?" 

"No,  Joshua,  the  more  witnesses,  the  better," 
and  the  two  men  went  out  the  door,  toward  the 
fence  where  the  doctor's  chaise  was  tied,  laughing 
heartily. 

As  to  the  boys,  they  were  completely  bewildered, 
for  not  a  word  did  they  know,  or  would  until 
after  the  auction,  and  they  had  not  the  remotest 
idea  that  their  father  even  dreamed  of  bidding  on 
the  fruit  farm. 


XII 

THE   TUG   OF  WAR 

The  strain  that  Lammy  had  been  under  ever  since 
the  reading  of  Aunt  Jimmy's  will  had  told  on  him  in 
a  way  that  only  his  mother  understood,  and  after  the 
stubborn  malarial  fever  itself  was  routed,  he  felt,  as 
he  said,  "like  the  bones  in  my  legs  is  wilier 
whistles,"  so  Dinah  Lucky  was  engaged  to  stay 
with  him  on  the  morning  of  the  long  talked  of  auc- 
tion sale.  He  would  have  preferred  some  one  else, 
for  Dinah  was  a  great  talker,  and  his  head  still  felt 
tired,  but  she  was  the  only  trustworthy  person  in  the 
entire  neighbourhood  who  for  either  friendship  or 
money  would  consent  to  miss  the  auction. 

According  to  the  terms  of  the  notice  that  had  ap- 
peared in  the  local  papers  and  been  posted  in  a  ten- 
mile  circuit  from  Milltown  to  Northboro,  the  sale 
conducted  by  Joel  Hill,  auctioneer,  was  to  be  held 
on  the  fruit  farm  itself  at  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning 
of  Thursday,  December  the  ninth,  **  by  order  of 
Joshua   Lane,   Executor." 

217 


2i8  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

When  the  day  came,  it  was  bitterly  cold,  though 
clear;  a  two-days  old  snow-storm  followed  by  sleet 
had  crusted  well,  and  the  walking  and  sleighing  were 
both  good,  yet  Joshua  Lane  was  surprised  when  he 
went  down  to  the  fruit  farm  at  nine  o'clock  in  the 
morning  to  sweep  off  the  porch  and  light  a  fire  in  the 
kitchen  stove,  which  still  remained  on  the  premises 
for  cooking  chickens'  food,  to  see  many  teams 
already  hitched  to  the  fence,  the  horses  well  muffled 
in  blankets.  People  afoot  were  also  going  toward 
the  barn,  where  a  Hungarian,  who  was  retained  to 
tend  the  stock  and  act  as  watchman,  had  a  room 
and  fire  which,  together  with  what  information  they 
could  extract  from  him,  was  what  they  sought. 

As  the  man  said,  "  Yah !  ha !  "  equally  loud  to 
every  question,  Joshua  thought  no  harm  could  come 
from  that  quarter,  and  proceeded  to  open  the  blinds 
of  the  kitchen  windows  and  make  such  preparations 
as  he  could  for  protecting  the  audience  from  the  cold. 

By  half-past  nine  the  kitchen,  sitting  room,  north 
parlours,  all  bare  of  furniture,  and  the  stairs  were 
packed  with  standing  people,  and  when,  at  a  few 
minutes  before  ten,  the  auctioneer  and  the  North- 
boro  lawyer,  Mr,  Cole,  who  had  made  Aunt  Jimmy's 
will,  appeared  together,  they  had  to  push  their  way 
into  the  house. 


THE  TUG   OF   WAR  219 

Mrs.  Slocum  had  been  on  hand  early,  of  course, 
—  she  always  was,  —  and  kept  dropping  mysterious 
remarks  and  pursing  up  her  lips.  She  began  by 
cheapening  the  entire  place,  saying  the  house  was 
not  in  as  good  repair  as  she  had  been  led  to  think, 
that  the  wall  papers  were  frights,  and  that  every- 
thing needed  paint,  that  four  thousand  dollars  would 
be  a  high  price  for  the  property,  and  she  didn't  know 
who'd  buy  it  anyway.  Then  the  next  minute  she  was 
requesting  those  about  her  not  to  crowd  up  the  stairs, 
as  they  might  bend  the  hand  rail,  which  would  be  just 
so  much  out  of  the  pocket  of  whoever  bought  the 
house,  adding  that  red  Brussels  carpet  was  her 
choice  for  the  north  room. 

To  the  surprise  of  all,  the  two  out-of-town  Lane 
brothers,  Jason  and  Henry,  were  not  there.  The 
"  all  in  due  time  "  policy  that  had  always,  and  would 
always,  keep  Henry  poor,  caused  them  to  start  for 
the  auction  so  late  that  the  delay  on  the  road  caused 
by  a  broken  trace  detained  them  until  nearly  eleven, 
when  they  turned  about  and  went  home  again  so 
as  not  to  be  late  for  dinner. 

After  reading  the  description  of  the  property  and 
the  cash  terms  of  the  sale,  Joel  Hill  stood  up  on  a 
soap-box  that  he  might  overlook  the  assembly  and 
called  out,  "What  am  I  bid,  to  start?" 


220  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

There  was  complete  silence  for  a  few  moments. 
Then  the  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Brotherton,  one  of 
Mr.  Clarke's  agents  from  Northboro,  entered,  causing 
a  flutter  of  speculation  as  to  what  his  presence  might 
mean  and  making  Mrs.  Lane's  heart  thump  pain- 
fully. Dr.  Jedd  and  his  wife,  the  minister  and  his 
lady,  together  with  Mrs.  Lane,  who  were  occupying 
a  bench  that  had  been  brought  from  the  barn,  and 
were  the  only  people  seated,  looked  at  the  stove  in 
front  of  them,  so  that  those  who  expected  a  bid  from 
that  quarter  were  disappointed. 

Joshua  Lane,  hands  behind  him,  leaned  against 
the  chimney  front  and  gazed  steadily  at  a  wire  that 
held  the  stove-pipe  in  place. 

"  What  am  I  bid,  to  start  ? "  repeated  the  auc- 
tioneer. Abiram  Slocum,  scanning  the  various 
groups  with  his  ferret  eyes,  moved  uneasily,  moist- 
ened his  lips,  and,  as  his  wife  gave  him  a  prod  with 
her  umbrella  that  exactly  hit  the  "funny  bone"  of 
his  elbow,  jerked  out,  "  Five  hundred  dollars." 

"  One  thousand,"  said  a  clear,  distinct,  but  un- 
familiar, voice  at  the  back  of  the  room.  There  was 
a  unanimous  turning  of  heads  and  twisting  of  bodies 
toward  the  bidder,  who  proved  to  be  Mr.  Cole  the 
lawyer  from  Northboro,  who  made  a  very  impressive 
appearance,  clad  as  he  was  in  a  handsome  fur-lined 


THE   TUG   OF   WAR  221 

overcoat  and  a  shiny  silk  hat.  As  he  was  also  often 
employed  by  Mr.  Clarke,  the  mystery  deepened. 

Abiram  Slocum  gasped  as  if  some  one  had  poured 
a  pail  of  water  over  him  at  this  unexpected  com- 
petitor, and  then  called,  "  One  thousand  two 
hundred  and  fifty." 

"Two  thousand,"  from  the  lawyer. 

"Two  thousand  and  fifty,"  shrieked  Abiram. 

"  Why  waste  time  with  small  change  a  cold 
morning  like  this  ? "  called  the  auctioneer. 

"  Three  thousand,"  said  the  lawyer. 

"Three  thousand  three  hundred,"  snapped  Abi- 
ram, vainly  endeavouring  to  get  out  of  range  of 
the  faces  and  gestures  his  wife  was  making  at 
him. 

"  Four  thousand  five  hundred,"  jumped  the  law- 
yer, beginning  to  button  his  coat  and  draw  on  his 
gloves,  as  if  the  end  were  well  in  sight. 

Abiram  Slocum  seemed  bewildered,  and  glancing 
at  his  wife,  failed  to  read  her  signal  aright,  and  re- 
sorted to  a  hoarse  whispering  in  the  middle  of 
which  she  shook  him  off  and  shouted  with  an  air  of 
triumph,   "  Five  thousand  dollars  ! " 

Mrs,  Lane  was  seen  to  moisten  her  lips  nervous- 
ly, and  the  colour  in  her  cheeks  deepened,  but  then 
by  this  time  the  wood-stove  was  sending  forth  red- 


222  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

hot  air  as  only  a  sheet-iron  stove  working  full 
blast  knows  how. 

"  Five  thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty,"  bid  the 
lawyer.  Then  followed  an  altercation  between  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Slocum.  Vainly  the  auctioneer  rapped ; 
they  paid  no  attention,  and  upon  the  lawyer  say- 
ing that  any  further  delay  would  cause  a  with- 
drawal of  his  bid,  the  final  "  Going,  going,  gone, 
at  five  thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars"  was 
called,  and  it  was  not  until  fully  twenty  seconds  after 
the  final  bang  of  the  hammer  that  the  Slocums  came 
to,  and  Abiram  fairly  yelled,  "  Six  —  thousand  — 
dollars!" 

Of  course  it  was  too  late,  and  the  fault  was  no- 
body's but  his  own.  He  tried  to  protest  and  was 
actually  hissed  down,  Laurelville  folk  preferring  to 
see  the  property  go  anywhere  so  long  as  Mrs.  Slo- 
cum was  not  mistress  of  the  fruit  farm. 

"  Name  of  buyer  ?  "  asked  the  auctioneer ;  "  self  or 
client?" 

"  Client,"  said  the  lawyer,  slowly  adjusting  his 
eyeglasses  and  glancing  at  a  slip  of  paper,  while 
dead  silence  again  prevailed,  and  the  Slocums  glared 
forked  lightning  at  each  other  and  the  world  in 
general. 

"  The  purchase  is  made  by  Lauretta  Ann  Lane, 


THE   TUG   OF  WAR  223 

as  guardian  for  her  son,  Samuel  Lane,  and  she  is 
prepared  to  deposit  the  price  in  cash,  pending 
searching  of  the  title  and  transfer  of  deed." 

There  was  a  shuffle  as  the  people,  released  from 
the  strain,  shifted  from  one  numb  foot  to  the 
other,  and  then  cheers  broke  out,  for  above  curios- 
ity and  all  other  feeling  was  one  of  joy  that  their 
kind,  hard-working  neighbour  had  in  some  mysteri- 
ous way  received  what  they  firmly  believed  to  be 
her  due. 

When  the  applause  had  subsided  and  the  gen- 
eral handshaking  ceased,  Lauretta  Ann  Lane  pulled 
a  large  new  wallet  from  some  mysterious  place  in 
her  dress,  and  counting  out  eleven  clean  five-hun- 
dred-dollar bills  held  them  toward  the  auctioneer, 
saying,  "  I'll  trouble  you  for  the  change,  please," 
adding  in  a  low  yet  perfectly  distinct  voice  to  an 
irate  figure  who  was  elbowing  her  way  out,  and 
meeting  many  obstacles  in  so  doing,  "  That  change  '11 
come  in  right  handy  for  new  papers,  paint,  and 
furnishings  that  you  said  was  needful,  and  I  think 
a  red  Brussels  carpet  would  liven  up  that  north  room 
wonderful.  That  same  was  your  choice,  waren't 
it,  Mis'is  Slocum.?" 

How  it  all  came  about  the  village  never  discov- 
ered; for  whatever  the  lawyer  knew  or  thought,  he 


224  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

kept  it  to  himself  and  said  the  opposite,  which  is, 
of  course,  what  lawyers  are  for. 

Dr.  Jedd  was  the  only  one  who  suspected  in  the 
right  direction ;  for  soon  after  the  Lanes  had 
moved  into  their  new  home,  and  curiosity  had 
subsided,  he  was  looking  on  the  parlour  mantel- 
shelf for  the  matches,  and  discovered  the  chopped 
remains  of  the  pewter  tea-pot  reposing  in  a  hand- 
some china  jar  that  was  bought  in  New  York.  But 
Dr.  Jedd  only  chuckled  as  the  whole  thing  flashed 
across  him,  and  he  said  to  himself,  "  Surely  enough, 
man  proposes  and  woman  disposes,  and  there's  a 
various  lot  of  human  nature  in  woman,  especially 
Aunt  Jimmy,  who  was  a  blessed,  good,  spunky,  old 
fool." 

One  final  sensation  was  given  the  neighbourhood 
when  it  was  found  that,  after  the  payment  of  the 
legacies  and  other  charges  against  the  estate,  there 
was  enough  surplus  to  give  the  three  Lane  brothers 
over  three  thousand  dollars  each,  legal  allotment. 


XIII 
TELLTALE  TROUSERS 

As  Mrs.  Lane  was  hurrying  home  from  the  auc- 
tion, that  Lammy  need  not  be  kept  in  suspense  a 
moment  longer  than  was  necessary,  she  bumped 
into  Abiram  Slocum,  who  was  trudging  moodily  along 
the  road.  His  wife  had  left  the  house  first,  and 
in  her  anger  appropriated  the  cutter  and  gone 
home,  leaving  him  to  walk. 

Mrs.  Lane  intended  to  go  by  without  speaking, 
and  merely  gave  a  civil  nod,  but  he  would  not  allow 
it;  his  ugly  mood  must  find  vent  in  words,  and 
as  she  passed  he  squared  about,  saying:  — 

"  You've  no  cause  to  feel  so  hoity  toity  if  yer  hev 
got  the  fruit  farm ;  there's  underhand  business  been 
goin'  on  here  in  Laurelville,  if  the  light  d  truth  was 
let  in.  Moreover,  it's  time  that  husband  o'  yourn 
as  Minstrator  of  that  Irish  O'More's  debts  should 
pay  me  the  rent  due;  the  fact  of  the  furniture 
being  burned  don't  release  him  a  copper  cent's 
worth,  as  he  well   knows.     Tell  him  from  me  he'd 

Q  22S 


226  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

best  come  down  and  settle  up ;  ter-morrow  I  reckon 
to  be  at  the  tax  office  all  forenoon,  or "  —  with  an 
evil  sneer  —  "  mebbe,  as  you  seem  to  hold  the  purse, 
you'd  like  to  pay  the  debt  out  of  charity  to  the  girl 
you  bragged  o'  being  fond  of,  to  save  her  the  name 
of  pauper." 

Mrs.  Lane  grew  hot  and  cold  by  turns,  and  a 
torrent  of  words  rose  to  her  lips,  but  the  thought 
of  Lammy  waiting  so  patiently  checked  her  in  time, 
and  she  merely  said,  "Yes,  Abiram  Slocum,  you'll 
hear  from  us  to-morrer." 

As  she  reached  the  home  gate,  she  saw  Dinah 
Lucky,  who  was  stationed  at  the  window  to  give 
the  first  word  of  her  return,  and  at  the  same  time 
a  wild-looking  tawny  head  and  a  pair  of  big  question- 
ing gray  eyes  appeared  above  her  fat  shoulder, 
as  Lammy  steadied  himself  by  the  window-frame. 
Quick  as  a  flash  she  pulled  off  her  red  knitted  shawl 
and  waved  it  joyfully,  so  that  Lammy  knew  at  least 
two  minutes  before  she  could  have  reached  his  room 
to  tell  him. 

Once  upstairs,  she  was  'obliged  to  begin  at  the 
beginning  and  tell  him  the  story  of  the  morning 
in  every  detail,  holding  his  hand  the  while  as  if 
to  convince  him  that  she  was  real  and  what  she 
told  the  plain  truth. 


TELLTALE   TROUSERS  227 

Presently  Dinah  slipped  downstairs,  saying  she 
would  get  the  dinner  and  bring  them  both  some 
upstairs,  for  she  was  sure  "  Missy  Lane  "  must  be 
clear  tuckered  out 

And  so  she  was,  though  she  had  not  realized  it 
until  that  moment,  and  sinking  back  in  the  home- 
made arm-chair,  she  closed  her  eyes  in  a  state  of 
perfect  peace,  and  must  have  dozed,  for  she  awoke 
with  a  start  to  hear  Laramy  say,  "  This  sort  of 
makes  up  for  the  Thanksgiving  dinner  I  missed," 
and  there  upon  the  various  chairs  and  the  bedstand 
Dinah  had  spread  a  dinner  tempting  as  only  a 
coloured  "  born  cook  "  knows  how  to  make  it,  while 
the  clashing  of  knives  and  forks  below  told  her  that 
Joshua  and  the  boys  were  provided  for  (they  had 
all  staid  at  home  from  the  shop  to  attend  the  auc- 
tion) and  that  this  afternoon  at  least  was  her  own. 

After  dinner  Lammy  lay  for  a  long  time,  looking 
at  the  wood  fire  flickering  through  the  open  front 
of  the  stove,  planning  how  they  would  fix  Aunt 
Jimmy's  —  or  rather  his  —  house,  as  his  mother 
called  it,  and  when  they  would  move.  Of  course, 
Lammy  wished  to  go  at  once  —  even  a  week  seemed 
a  long  delay.  Mrs.  Lane  hesitated,  for  she  had 
thoughts  of  waiting  until  spring;  yet,  on  the  other 
hand,  she  could  not  well  leave  the  house  empty  or 


228  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

travel  up  and  down  to  tend  the  chickens.  Aunt 
Jimmy's  house  was  by  far  the  easier  to  heat,  and 
now  as  they  must  keep  a  hired  man  permanently, 
he  could  be  put  into  their  present  house  and  every- 
thing settle  down  for  a  comfortable  winter  of  work, 
rest,  and  planning,  so  she  said,  much  to  Lammy's 
joy,  that  she  thought  they  could  be  in  by  Christmas 
and  then  make  the  improvements  at  their  leisure. 

"  Yes,  we  can  wait  to  paper  the  rooms  — that  is,  all 
except  Bird's,"  he  added.  "  I'd  like  to  have  hers 
fixed  up  for  her  when  she  comes,  white  and  a  paper 
with  wild  roses  —  that's  what  she  likes,  and  she  made 
a  pattern  for  one  once  and  was  going  to  send  it  to 
the  wall-paper  man  when  her  father  finished  the 
red  piney  pattern,  only  he  never  did."  And  Lammy 
told  his  mother  of  Bird's  hopes  about  her  work,  ending 
by  taking  the  string  that  held  the  key  from  about 
his  neck  and  saying :  — 

"Please  unlock  my  lower  drawer  and  give  me 
Bird's  bundle  that  her  uncle  would  not  let  her 
take  with  her ;  if  I  can't  see  her,  I  can  look  at  her 
things.  I  know  she  wouldn't  mind,  because  I 
went  back  in  through  the  cellar  with  her  that  last 
day  and  tied  them  up ;  only  I  didn't  do  it  very 
well  because  there  was  no  good  paper  and  string. 
I'd   like  to  fix  them  better  and  put  up  the  paint- 


TELLTALE   TROUSERS  229 

box  by  itself,"  he  said,  fumbling  with  the  knots, 
as  his  mother,  much  interested,  took  a  fresh  sheet 
of  paper  from  the  press  closet  behind  the  bed. 

As  she  reseated  herself,  the  string  broke,  and  the 
contents  of  the  hastily  made  bundle  were  scattered 
about  the  bed.  Lammy  picked  up  the  water-colour 
drawings  carefully,  one  by  one,  and  smoothed  them 
out  with  the  greatest  care.  There  were  a  couple 
of  dozen  of  them,  besides  those  of  the  wild  roses 
and  the  peony  design,  which  Mrs.  Lane  at  once 
recognized  from  its  spirit,  even  though  it  was 
unfinished. 

Suddenly  Lammy  cried  out  in  dehght,  for  there 
before  him  was  a  pen-and-ink  sketch  of  Bird  her- 
self, much  younger  and  happier  than  when  he  had 
last  seen  her,  but  still  his  Uttle  friend  to  the  life. 

"Oh,  mother,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  had  feasted 
his  eyes  on  it,  "do  you  think  there  could  be  any 
harm  in  putting  this  up  on  the  mantel-shelf  where 
I  could  look  at  it  —  just  for  a  few  days  until  we 
go  to  get  Bird  back  ? "  And  of  course  his  mother 
assured  him  that  there  could  be  no  possible  harm. 
Then,  completely  satisfied,  he  laid  the  sheets  of 
drawing-paper  together  again  and  prepared  to  make 
them  into  a  neat,  flat  package. 

"You've    dropped    this    out,"    said    his    mother, 


230  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

reaching  across  the  bed  to  pick  up  something  that 
had  slid  down  between  the  coverlid  and  the  wall, 
and  laid  what  seemed  to  be  a  letter  in  a  long, 
heavy,  brown  manila  envelope  tied  with  pink  tape 
in  front  of  Lammy. 

"  I  don't  know  what  that  is,"  he  said,  looking  it 
over;  "it  must  have  been  between  the  pictures 
when  we  pulled  them  out  of  her  father's  box, 
because  those  were  all  I  saw  when  I  made  the 
bundle  up.  See,  there's  writing  on  this  side,"  and 
holding  it  up  to  the  light,  for  the  winter  twilight 
was  setting  in,  he  read  slowly :  — 

"  *  Papers  concerning  the  Turner  Mill  Farm  Prop- 
erty, —  to  be  recorded.'     I  wonder  what  that  means." 

Mrs.  Lane's  eyes  fairly  bulged,  and  great  drops 
of  sweat  stood  on  her  forehead  as  she  answered: 
"  Means .''  It  means,  Lammy  Lane,  that  the  Lord 
don't  forget  the  orphan,  and  if  Bird  O'More  is  in 
New  York,  he's  lookin'  after  her  business  right 
here  in  Laurelville. 

"The  meaning  of  that  letter  is  what  Abiram 
Slocum  burnt  up  his  cross-road  house  to  conceal, 
which  he  wouldn't  hev  done  if  it  was  of  no 
account."  And  Mrs.  Lane  poured  out  her  suspicions 
and  ideas  concerning  the  matter. 


TELLTALE   TROUSERS  231 

At  the  supper-table  that  night  Mrs.  Lane  repeated 
Abiram  Slocum's  message  to  her  husband,  and  he, 
rubbing  his  chin  with  a  troubled  air,  replied,  "  Truth 
be  told,  Lauretta  Ann,  owin'  to  the  burnin'  of 
that  furniture  there  isn't  a  cent  left  to  pay  that 
claim,  and  I  do  hate  to  have  poor  O'More  held  up 
as  an  insolvent  around  here  for  sixty  dollars,  'count  o' 
Bird.  He  was  a  good-natured,  harmless  sort  o'  feller, 
enjoyin'  of  himself  as  he  went,  very  much  like  I'd 
be  if  you  hadn't  taken  up  with  me,  Mis'is  Lane." 

At  this  compliment  Mrs.  Lane  blushed  like  a  girl 
and  murmured  something  about  all  men  bein'  the 
better  for  women's  handling,  provided  it  was  the 
right  woman,  which  Mis'is  Slocum  wasn't. 

"  Now  as  far  as  that  sixty  dollars  goes,  if  it  wasn't 
owed  to  'Biram  Slocum,  I'd  undertake  ter  pay  it 
myself,  so  as  to  get  the  receipt  and  settle  every- 
thing square  up  and  clean  billed,  but,  by  jinks,  it 
sticks  me  to  pay  that  low-down  swindler." 

"Joshua  Lane!"  cried  his  wife,  in  a  tragic 
tone,  standing  up  and  pointing  her  pudgy  finger 
at  him  with  such  a  jerk  that  it  made  him  start  as 
if  it  had  been  a  bayonet,  while  she  used  the 
most  grandiloquent  language  she  could  muster: 
"The  estate  of  the  late  lamented  Terence  O'More 
does    not    owe    Abiram    Slocum    a    bent    penny, 


232  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

and  as  to  the  receipt  for  the  same,  I'll  hand  it  to 
you  this  time  to-morrow  night,  leastwise  if  it  doesn't 
blow  a  blizzard  'twixt  now  and  then,  or  Mis'is  Slo- 
cum  turn  'Biram  into  pickled  peppers  by  the  sight 
of  the  face  she  wore  home  from  the  auction." 

"Come  now,  Lauretta  Ann,"  wheedled  Joshua, 
"you  ain't  minded  of  paying  it,  be  ye?  I'd  think 
twice  —  that  I  would." 

"Pay!"  snorted  Lauretta.  "Don't  I  tell  you 
there's  nothin'  owed  ?  " 

"You're  talkin'  an'  actin'  enigmas  and  charades. 
Not  thet  it's  anything  new,  but  if  I  was  you,  I'd  be 
mighty  keerful  how  I  baited  'Biram  Slocum ;  he  is 
too  cute  for  most  men,  and  he  would  take  to  the  law 
for  a  heedless  word  jest  now,  he's  that  riled  about 
the  wardrobe  story  leakin*  out  and  losing  the  fruit 
farm." 

"That's  all  right,  and  don't  you  fret,  Joshua;  if 
there  is  any  law  called  in,  it'll  be  by  me."  And  pump 
and  quiz  as  he  might,  not  another  word  could  he 
extract  from  his  wife  upon  the  subject. 

Early  the  next  morning  Mrs.  Lane  harnessed 
the  "colt,"  which,  though  ten  years  old,  still  bore 
his  youthful  name,  to  the  cutter,  and  after  putting 
her  egg-basket  deep  under  the  robe  and  depositing 


TELLTALE   TROUSERS  233 

her  satchel  on  top  of  it,  turned  up  the  hill  road 
toward  Northboro,  waving  her  whip  good-by  to 
Lammy,  who,  seated  in  the  big  chair  in  his  window, 
smiled  at  her,  with  his  finger  pressed  to  his  lips,  as 
if  cautioning  silence. 

As  the  sleigh  bells  jingled  and  the  "colt"  loped 
easily  along,  Mrs.  Lane  leaned  back  as  if  the  motion 
and  jolly  sound  expressed  her  own  feelings  admi- 
rably, and  the  miles  flew  swiftly  by. 

When  Northboro  was  reached,  she  drove  to  the 
stable  where  she  always  left  her  horse  in  unseason- 
able weather,  but  instead  of  carrying  the  familiar 
egg-basket  into  town,  she  stowed  it  away  under 
the  sleigh  seat,  and  hanging  her  satchel  securely 
on  her  arm,  drew  on  her  best  gloves  that  she  had 
brought  in  her  pocket,  and  started  up  the  main 
street  at  a  vigorous  trot.  Coming  to  a  gray  stone 
building  next  the  court-house,  where  many  lawyers 
had  offices,  she  read  the  various  signs  anxiously, 
and  then  spying  that  of  Mr.  Cole,  opened  the 
swinging  outside  door  and  climbed  the  two  flights 
of  stairs  that  led  to  it. 

Mr.  Cole  greeted  her  pleasantly,  for  he  had  a  very 
kindly  feeling  toward  this  generous-hearted  woman ; 
but  when  he  heard  her  story  and  saw  the  legal-look- 
ing envelope,  he  became  doubly  interested.    Untying 


234  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

the  tape,  he  read  the  various  papers  through,  one 
after  the  other,  while  Mrs.  Lane  watched  his  eager- 
ness with  evident  satisfaction.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished, he  replaced  the  papers  and  tied  them  up  delib- 
erately before  he  said :  "  These  papers  appear  to  me 
to  be  of  great  importance  to  O'M ore's  daughter, 
though  exactly  what  they  amount  to  I  cannot  tell 
until  I  see  the  dates  of  certain  mortgages  and  trans- 
fers on  record  in  Milltown.  Fortunately  the  attorney, 
Mr.  King,  who  drew  up  the  papers  before  he  went 
to  California  four  years  ago,  has  returned  on  a  visit, 
and  I  am  to  meet  him  in  court  this  afternoon." 

"  I  suppose  you  know  Bird  hasn't  anything  to 
pay  what  Joshua  says  they  call  the  retainment  fee, 
but  if  a  little  money  '11  help  her  get  her  rights,  you 
may  hold  me  good  for  it." 

"That  will  not  be  necessary,"  said  the  lawyer, 
smiling,  "  for  my  client,  Mr.  Clarke,  is  as  anxious  to 
have  the  title  to  the  Mill  Farm  cleared  as  you  are,  so 
in  serving  him  I  may  be  able  to  aid  Bird.  Slocum, 
the  present  owner,  seems  a  slippery  man  at  best. 
You  know  that  the  insurance  company,  for  which  I 
also  happen  to  be  the  agent,  withholds  his  claim 
because  he  gave  the  date  of  June  9  for  his  fire  when 
it  took  place  the  loth." 

At  this  Mrs.  Lane's  eyes  grew  steelly  bright,  and 


TELLTALE   TROUSERS  235 

she  moistened  her  lips  nervously.  Then  Mr.  Cole 
put  the  papers  in  his  safe  and  closed  the  door  with 
its  mysterious  lock,  and  Mrs.  Lane  breathed  a  sigh  of 
relief  and,  asking  hira  to  write  as  soon  as  he  had 
news,  either  good  or  bad,  went  carefully  down  the 
shallow  marble  stairs  of  the  office  building,  for 
elevators  she  would  have  none  of. 

Once  more  in  the  street,  she  spied  a  bakery  and, 
going  in,  ordered  a  cup  of  coffee  and  half  a  custard 
pie,  which  she  ate  with  relish  and  then  returned  to 
the  stable  for  the  "  colt "  without  doing  any  of  her 
usual  market-day  trading. 

It  was  only  half-past  eleven  when  Mrs.  Lane, 
coming  down  the  hill  road,  saw  Laurelville  lying 
before  her  in  the  valley,  and  five  minutes  later  when 
she  hitched  the  colt  in  front  of  the  town-house, 
throwing  the  coon  lap-robe  over  him  in  addition  to 
his  blanket. 

The  selectmen  had  been  in  consultation,  and  were 
now  standing  outside,  making  holes  in  the  snow  with 
their  boot  toes  and  finding  it  difficult  to  break  away, 
after  the  usual  manner  of  rural  communities.  Mrs. 
Lane  nodded  pleasantly  and  asked  if  every  one  else 
had  gone  home  to  dinner. 

"Mostly,"  replied  First  Selectman  Penfield,  "but 
Judge  Kicker's  in  his  office,  I  reckon,  and  Slocum, 


236  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

he's  in  the  end  room  as  'cessor,  waitin'  for  folks  to 
swear  their  taxes,  for  which  they  appear  to  be  in  no 
hurry." 

This  was  exactly  the  information  Mrs.  Lane  wanted, 
and  she  walked  directly  down  the  corridor,  this  time 
firmly  grasping  the  egg-basket  and  leaving  the  satchel 
outside. 

Opening  the  door  without  knocking,  she  had  en- 
tered, closed  it,  and  seated  herself  opposite  Abiram 
Slocum  before  he  was  aware  of  her  presence,  and  do 
what  he  could,  he  was  not  able  to  control  the  slight 
start  that  her  appearance  gave  him. 

"  Morning,  marm,"  he  said  formally,  putting  his 
thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  his  vest  and  puffing  out 
his  cheeks  with  importance;  "want  to  swear  your 
taxes  ? " 

"  Not  to-day ;  Joshua  always  attends  to  that.  I've 
jest  dropped  in  ter  get  that  receipt  for  the  O'More 
rent,  as  Joshua  intends  settling  the  matter  up  with 
Judge  Ricker  this  afternoon." 

"  Very  glad  to  hear  it,  Mrs.  Joshua  Lane ;  it  saves 
me  lots  of  trouble,  and  I  hate  to  go  to  law  unless  re- 
quired." And  he  drew  a  blank  form  from  a  desk, 
which  he  filled  in,  signed,  and  was  about  to  hand 
across  the  table,  when  he  suddenly  withdrew  it, 
saying,  "  Well,  where  are  the  sixty  dollars }  " 


TELLTALE   TROUSERS  237 

"They  was  paid  you  June  the  loth." 

"  What !  "  shouted  Abiram,  really  believing  the 
woman  to  be  crazy,  and  retreating  behind  the 
table. 

"  Just  so ;  by  that  I  mean  all  that  good  furniture 
you  set  fire  to  along  with  your  house." 

Slocum  turned  ghastly  white  and  almost  stag- 
gered, but  quickly  recovering  himself,  he  sprang 
forward  furiously,  and  for  a  moment  Mrs.  Lane 
thought  he  was  going  to  strike  her,  but  glancing 
out  the  window  she  saw  that  Selectman  Penfield 
was  below,  and  this  reassured  her. 

"  I'll  have  you  arrested  for  slander  as  sure  as  my 
name's  Abiram  Slocum,"  he  gasped,  trying  to  get  out 
the  door  in  front  of  which  she  stood. 

"  I  wouldn't  be  too  hasty;  if  you  wait,  you  will  hear 
more  to  get  up  that  slander  claim  on,  mostlike.  Jest 
you  go  back  and  set  down  while  I  have  my  say,  and 
if  you  want  witnesses  to  it.  Judge  Ricker  will  step  in, 
I'm  sure,  or  Mr.  Penfield  either ;  they  are  both  real 
handy.  As  you  said  yesterday,  there's  underhand 
business  been  goif^  on  in  town  if  the  light  d'  truth 
coiild  be  let  in,  which  I'm  now  doin'." 

So  Abiram  hesitated,  and  sank  back  into  the 
chair,  casting  an  uneasy  look  at  his  visitor,  who  pro- 
ceeded to  state  her  case  both  rapidly  and  clearly. 


138  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

"  'Twas  Friday,  the  loth  of  June,  you  fired  that 
house,  though  you  did  give  into  the  insurance  com- 
pany 'twas  the  9th."  (Here  again  Slocum  jumped, 
and  his  hands  worked  nervously.) 

"The  lOth  was  circus  day,  and  most  all  the 
town  had  gone  to  Northboro.  Likewise  Lockwood's 
field-hands  went,  and  so  there  were  no  men  folks 
working  up  beyond  four  corners ;  this  gave  you  a 
clear  coast. 

"  You  started  for  the  circus  with  Mis'is  Slocum 
and  'Ram ;  you  turned  back,  giving  it  out  you'd  got 
important  business  at  the  Mill  Farm.  But  you  didn't 
go,  and  turned  up  before  noon  at  the  turnpike 
store,  where  you  never  trade.  There  you  bought  a 
new  gallon  can  of  kerosene,  saying  you  was  going 
up  to  the  north  lots  to  make  a  wash  of  it  fer  tent- 
worms  in  the  apple  trees.  Now  there  ain't  even  a 
wild  crab  tree  in  the  north  lots  —  only  corn-fields. 

"  You  went  up  that  way  all  right,  and  a-spookin* 
around  the  house.  Everything  was  tight  fast,  and  so 
the  only  place  you  could  get  in  was  by  crawlin' 
through  the  cellar  winder,  which  you  did,  tearin'  a 
new  pair  o'  herrin'-bone  pattern  trousers  so  doin'." 

Again  Slocum  started,  and  his  face  wore  a  look  of 
intense  wonder  mixed  with  fear. 

"After  you  looked  about  for  what  you  didn't  find, 


TELLTALE   TROUSERS  239 

you  spilled  the  kerosene  about  and  set  fire  so's  no- 
body could  get  what  maybe  you'd  overlooked. 

"  Then  you  scooted  back  in  the  corn  lot  and  hid  the 
can  in  the  big  blasted  chestnut  stump,  and  when  a 
hue  and  cry  was  raised  walked  down  as  innercent 
as  May,  from  hoein'  com  that  wasn't  yet  above 
ground ! " 

By  this  time  Slocum  had  pulled  himself  together, 
and  his  defiance  returned. 

"  Woman,  you  are  crazy,  and  what  you  say  is  per- 
fectully  redeclous  ;  I'll  have  you  behind  asylum  bars, 
if  not  in  jail.  Mere  talk !  You  can't  prove  a  word 
you  say,  and  what  is  this  '  thing '  that  I  couldn't  find 
and  wanted  to  burn  ?    Just  tell  me  that !  " 

"  Prove  ,■'  Oh,  yes,  I  can ;  Lauretta  Ann  Lane 
is  no  random  talker. 

"  Here's  the  pants  you  wore,  and  that  you  sold  the 
pedler  the  same  afternoon  —  they  smell  yet  o'  kero- 
sene, and  here's  the  piece  ye  tore  out  on  the  winder- 
catch  !  "  And  Mrs,  Lane  whipped  the  telltale  trousers 
out  of  her  egg-basket. 

"  The  kerosene  can's  in  the  stump  yet,  but  I've  got 
it  all  straight ;  that  poor  Polack  woman  you  turned 
out  of  house  and  home  seen  you  hide  it.  Now  what 
else  was  there? "  And  Mrs.  Lane  affected  a  lapse  of 
memory. 


240  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

"Oh,  yes;  you  wanted  to  know  what  you  was 
a-lookin'  for.  Why,  don't  you  know  ?  It  was  a  big 
lawyer's  envelope  marked  *  Papers  concerning  the 
Turner  Mill  Farm  Property,  —  to  be  recorded.*  " 

Slocum  breathed  hard  and  grasped  the  table  edge 
to  steady  himself. 

"  Jest  why  you  wanted  them  papers  I  don't  know, 
but  Lawyer  Cole  in  Northboro,  who's  got  'em,  is 
goin'  to  find  out." 

"  Lawyer  Cole  has  them  ?  "  Slocum  whispered 
hoarsely ;  "  Lawyer  Cole,  did  you  say  ? " 

"Yes,  I  did!"  repeated  Mrs.  Lane;  "and  if  you 
don't  think  the  testimony  I've  been  givin'  you  is  true, 
and  consider  it  a  slander,  I've  got  it  writ  out,  and  I'll 
have  him  search  that  out  too." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Slocum,  speaking  as  if  to  himself. 
"  How  did  you  ever  find  —  "  and  then  he  remembered 
and  stopped.  Mrs.  Lane  waited  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  said :  — 

"  It's  full  noon  now,  and  I  must  get  home  to  dinner, 
so  I'll  trouble  you  for  that  rent  receipt.  Thanks,  and 
I'll  give  you  a  word  of  advice  in  return.  The  Lord 
mostly  finds  out  evil-doers,  and  not  infrequent  He 
trusts  women  to  help  Him,  and  I  want  you  to  consider 
that  if  I  don't  give  this  matter  a  public  airin',  it  isn't 
from  either  pity  or  fear  of  you,  but  because  I  don't 


TELLTALE   TROUSERS  241 

want  the  county  to  know  that  we  harboured  such  a 
skunk  among  us  so  long;  my  last  word  being  that 
you'd  better  get  away  from  my  neighbourhood  before 
I  change  my  mind !  " 

So  it  came  about  that  before  Christmas  Abiram 
Slocura  gave  it  out  that  his  wife's  health  was  poor  and 
he  had  been  advised  to  go  to  California,  where  he 
intended  to  buy  a  vineyard,  hinting  at  the  same  time 
that  as  he  expected  to  sell  a  large  tract  of  land  to 
Mr.  Clarke,  he  had  no  further  interest  in  Laurelville ; 
and  though  only  four  people  knew  the  real  reason, 
the  whole  village  rejoiced  without  the  slightest  effort 
at  concealment. 

At  the  same  time  Joshua  Lane  found  that  his  work 
as  administrator  of  the  O'More  property  had  only 
begun  instead  of  being  closed. 


XIV 

THE  FIRE-ESCAPE 

What  had  Bird  O'More  been  doing  these  many 
days?  It  did  not  need  the  skill  of  a  magician  to 
tell  why  even  her  notes  to  her  Laurelville  friends 
had  been  brief  at  best  and  then  finally  ceased.  A 
single  peep  at  her  surroundings  would  have  told  the 
tale,  and  the  more  completely  she  became  merged 
in  them,  the  more  hopeless  she  felt  them  to  be. 

Her  weekly  work  in  distributing  the  flowers  was 
a  bright  spot  indeed,  as  well  as  her  visits  to 
Tessie;  but  as  she  looked  forward  to  the  time 
when,  frost  would  kill  the  blossoms,  the  Flower 
Mission  be  closed,  and  the  liberty  of  streets  and 
parks  cut  off  for  confinement  in  the  dark  flat,  her 
heart  sank  indeed. 

All  her  hopes  were  centred  about  going  to 
school,  and  the  possibilities  of  meeting  teachers 
who  would  understand  her  desire  to  learn,  and 
help  her  with  sympathy.  Meanwhile,  the  city 
summer  had  told  upon  her  country-bred  body  even 
more   than    on  her  sensitive   temperament,  and  she 

242 


THE   FIRE-ESCAPE  243 

grew  thinner  every  day,  until  finally  her  aunt  was 
compelled  to  see  it  in  spite  of  herself,  and  prom- 
ised to  take  her  down  to  Coney  Island  or  Rocka- 
way  Beach  "  some  day  "  when  she  was  not  busy, 
to  freshen  her  up  a  bit ;  but  that  day  never  came, 
and  as  little  Billy  was  constantly  improving,  her 
uncle  had  eyes  only  for  him.  In  fact,  the  change 
in  the  little  cripple  was  little  short  of  marvellous. 
Of  course  his  lameness  remained,  but  his  cheeks 
were  round,  his  lips  had  lost  their  blue  tint,  and 
to  hear  him  cry  or  complain  was  a  rare  sound 
indeed.  That  all  this  came  of  Bird's  devoted  care 
her  uncle  was  quite  convinced ;  for  it  was  she  who 
gave  Billy  his  morning  bath,  and  managed,  —  no  easy 
task,  —  that  the  battered  tub  should  not  again  be  used 
for  a  cupboard.  It  was  Bird  who  took  his  food 
into  the  fire-escape  bower,  and  coaxed  and  tempted 
him  until  he  had  eaten  sufficient,  and  it  was  she 
who  put  him  nightly  into  the  little  bed  opposite 
her  own  and  taught  him  to  say,  as  a  little  prayer, 
the  verse  of  the  hymn  her  own  mother  had  sung  to 
her  in  the  misty  long  ago :  — 

"Jesus,  gentle  Shepherd,  hear  me; 
Bless  thy  little  lamb  to-night : 
Through  the  darkness  be  thou  near  me; 
Keep  me  safe  till  morning  light." 


244  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

But  for  Billy,  Bird  could  not  have  endured  through 
that  dreadful  summer.  As  it  was,  she  often  fingered 
her  "  keepsake,"  still  hanging  about  her  neck,  the 
thought  comforting  her  that  with  the  mysterious 
coin  in  it  she  could  get  back  once  more  to  the 
little  village  that  seemed  like  heaven  to  her,  no 
matter  what  happened  after.  Often,  in  fact,  the 
only  thing  that  kept  her  from  running  away  was 
the  belief  that  if  her  good  friends  could  take  her 
permanently,  they  would  have  sent  for  her,  and 
pride,  heroic  pride,  born  of  Old  and  New  England, 
was  still  strong  in  Ladybird. 

"  She'll  perk  up  when  school  begins  and  she  gets 
acquainted  with  girls  her  own  age,"  said  O'More, 
cheerfully,  as  his  attention  was  called  to  her  pale 
cheeks  by  his  wife.  "  I'm  owin'  her  good  will  for 
what  she's  done  for  Billy,  else  I  most  wish  I'd  left 
her  up  there  with  those  hayseeds  that  wanted  her. 
Somehow  she  don't  fit  in  here,  for  all  that  she 
never  complains.  She's  different  from  us,  and  she 
makes  me  uncomfortable,  lookin'  so  solemn  at  me 
if  I  chance  to  take  off  my  coat  and  collar  of  a 
night  at  supper  to  ease  up  a  bit.  Terence  was 
different  from  us,  too,  and  it's  bred  in  the  bone." 

"Let  well  enough  alone,"  said  Mrs.  O'More, 
glad  to   have    Billy   so    completely   taken   off    her 


THE   FIRE-ESCAPE  245 

hands;  "folks  can't  afford  to  be  different  to  their 
own,  unless  they've  got  the  price.  I've  made  her 
a  good  dress  out  of  a  remnant  of  bright  plaid  I 
bought,  so  next  week  she  can  shell  off  them  shabby 
black  duds  that  give  me  the  shivers  every  time  I 
see  them.  Maybe  fixin'  up  like  other  girls  '11  bring 
her  to  and  liven  her.  She's  queer  though,  sure 
enough,  don't  give  no  sass,  and  it  ain't  natural;  I 
never  seen  a  girl  her  age  before  that  didn't  talk 
back,  and  sometimes  it  riles  me  to  see  her  keep 
so  close  shet  when  I  up  and  let  fly." 

In  September  school  began,  but  this  brought 
further  disappointment,  for  Bird  had  hoped  to  find 
a  friend  at  least  in  the  teacher.  She  was,  however, 
graded  according  to  her  size  and  age,  not  ability, 
as  if  she  had  been  a  wooden  box,  and  found  herself 
in  an  overcrowded  room,  a  weak-eyed  Uttle  Italian, 
with  brass  earrings,  seated  on  one  side  of  her,  and 
the  Polish  sausage-seller's  daughter  on  the  other, 
her  dirty  hands  heavy  with  glass  rings,  which  caused 
her  to  keep  whispering  behind  Bird's  back  as  to  her 
lack  of  jewellery  and  style ;  while  at  the  first  recess 
this  Httle  Slav  told  the  astonished  Bird,  "  If  yer 
tink  to  get  in  vid  us,  you'll  got  to  pomp  you  'air; 
dis  crowt,  we's  stylish  barticular  —  ve  iss." 

As  to  the  teacher  in  trim  shirt-waist,  with  pretty 


246  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

hands  and  hair,  to  whom  the  class  recited  in  chorus, 
Bird  longed  to  speak  to  her,  to  touch  her,  but  she 
fled  to  a  purer  atmosphere  as  soon  as  school  was 
out,  and  was  remote  as  the  stars. 

As  the  weather  grew  cool,  the  fire-escape  arbour 
was  abandoned;  they  could  spend  less  time  out  of 
doors,  and  Bird  felt  caged  indeed.  The  engine- 
house  now  was  the  limit  of  their  walks,  for  it  grew 
dark  very  soon  after  school  was  out.  Still  they 
never  tired  of  seeing  the  horses  dash  out,  and  Billy 
called  Big  Dave  "my  fireman,"  and  used  to  shout 
to  him  as  he  passed  in  the  street.  So  the  autumn 
passed. 

It  was  a  clear,  cold  afternoon  a  little  before  Christ- 
mas; the  shops  were  gay  with  pretty  things,  and 
the  streets  with  people.  Billy  was  in  a  fever  of 
excitement  because  his  father,  who  had  left  home 
on  a  business  trip  a  few  days  before,  had  promised 
him  a  Christmas  tree,  and  Bird  had  gone  out  to  buy 
the  candles  and  some  little  toys  to  put  on  it,  at  a 
street  stall.  Billy,  however,  did  not  go,  for  he  was 
not  to  see  the  toys  until  Christmas  Eve. 

Bird  wandered  across  to  Broadway  at  23rd  Street, 
and  then  followed  the  stream  of  shoppers  southward. 
Was  it  only  a  year  since  last  Christmas  when  she 


THE   FIRE-ESCAPE  247 

had  helped  trim  the  tree  at  Sunday-school  in  Laurel- 
ville  and  had  sung  the  treble-solo  part  in  — 

"Watchman!  tell  us  of  the  night; 
What  the  signs  of  promise  are." 

Would  there  ever  again  be  any  signs  of  promise 
for  her?  Somehow  she  had  never  before  felt 
so  lonely  for  her  father  as  in  that  merry  crowd. 
She  wondered  if  he  saw  and  was  disappointed  in 
her,  and  what  Lammy  was  doing.  Going  up  on 
the  hill  probably  with  the  other  village  children  to 
cut  the  Christmas  tree  and  greens  for  church. 

Not  minding  where  she  went,  she  followed  the 
crowd  on  past  and  around  Union  Square  and  down 
town  again.  Then  realizing  that  she  was  facing 
away  from  home  and  had  not  bought  her  candles, 
she  looked  up  and  saw  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street  a  beautiful  gray  stone  church.  At  one  side 
and  joined  to  it  was  what  looked  like  a  house  set 
well  back  from  the  street,  from  which  it  was  sepa- 
rated by  a  wide  garden.  People  were  going  in  and 
out  of  the  church  by  twos  and  threes. 

A  voice  seemed  to  call  Bird,  and  she  too  crossed 
Broadway  and  timidly  pushed  open  the  swinging  door. 

At  first  she  could  see  nothing,  as  the  only  lights 
in  the  church  were  near  the  chancel.     Then  differ- 


248  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

ent  objects  began  to  outline  themselves.  There 
was  no  service  going  on,  the  people  having  come 
in  merely  for  a  few  quiet  moments. 

Bird  stood  quite  still  in  the  little  open  space  by 
a  side  door  back  of  the  pews ;  it  was  the  first  really 
peaceful  time  she  had  known  since  the  day  that 
she  and  Lammy  carried  the  red  peonies  to  the 
hillside  graveyard,  and  as  she  thought  of  it,  she 
seemed  to  smell  the  sweet  spruce  fragrance  of  those 
runaway  Christmas  trees  that  watched  where  her 
parents  slept. 

A  flock  of  little  choir  boys  trooped  in  from  an 
opposite  door  for  the  final  practice  of  their  Christ- 
mas carols  and  grouped  themselves  in  the  stalls. 
Next  a  quiver  of  sound  rushed  through  the  church 
as  the  great  organ  drew  its  breath  and  swelled  its 
lungs,  as  if  humming  the  melody  before  breaking 
into  voice.  Then  above  its  tones  rang  a  clear  boy- 
soprano. 

"  Watchman !  tell  us  of  the  night 

What  the  signs  of  promise  are." 

and  the  chorus  answered  — 

"  Traveller  !   o'er  yon  mountain  height, 
See  that  glory-beaming  star." 

The  answering  echo  quivered  in  Bird's  throat, 
suffocating  her,  and  as,  unable  to  stand,  she   knelt 


THE    FIRE-ESCAPE  249 

trembling  upon  the  floor  the  odour  of  spruce  again 
enveloped  her,  and  groping,  she  found  that  she  was 
really  leaning  against  a  pile  of  small  trees  that 
had  been  brought  there  to  decorate  the  church  for 
Christmas  Eve,  and  as  the  door  opened,  men  came 
in  bringing  more  —  dozens  and  dozens  of  them,  it 
seemed. 

Bird  picked  up  a  broken  twig,  and  in  spite  of  its 
sharpness  pressed  it  against  her  face,  kissing  it 
passionately,  never  noticing  that  she  was  directly  in 
the  passage  between  the  door  and  aisle,  where 
presently  a  gentleman  coming  hurriedly  in  stumbled 
over  her. 

He  was  about  to  pass  on  with  a  curt  apology, 
but  glancing  down,  he  saw  that  it  was  a  little  girl,  and 
that  though  comfortably  dressed  and  not  actually 
poor,  her  face  showed  signs  of  distress  and  tears, 
so  he  stopped. 

"What  is  it,  my  child?"  he  said.  "Have  you 
lost  your  way,  or  what  ?  Come  here  and  sit  in  this 
pew  while  you  tell  me  about  it.  I've  a  daughter  at 
home  only  a  couple  of  years  older  than  you,  and 
she  doesn't  Uke  to  have  any  one  sad  at  Christmas 
time." 

It  was  months  since  any  one  had  spoken  to  Bird 
in-the  gentle  tongue  that  had  been  her  father's  and 


250  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

was  her  own,  and  though  the  tears  started  anew,  she 
made  haste  to  obey,  lest  he  should  suddenly  disap- 
pear like  all  her  pleasant  dreams. 

He  was  an  alert,  middle-aged  man  of  affairs.  He 
had  a  fine  presence  and  keen  eyes  and,  without  mak- 
ing her  feel  that  he  was  prying,  succeeded  in 
drawing  out  the  bare  facts  of  her  story,  nothing 
more,  so  that  he  had  no  idea  that  the  trouble  was 
more  than  a  country-bred  child's  homesickness  at 
being  shut  up  in  the  city,  and  having  to  go  to  school 
instead  of  reading  all  day  long  and  trying  to  paint 
flowers. 

"  So  you  used  to  live  in  Laurelville  ? "  he  said ; 
"  why,  I  have  a  country  place  near  there,  not  far 
from  Northboro,  my  native  town,  where  I  built  an 
Art  School,  and  I  have  Uttle  city  girls  come  to  us 
there  every  summer  for  a  playtime.  If  you  will 
remember  and  write,  or  come  to  me  when  the  next 
summer  vacation  begins,  you  shall  be  one  of  them. 
Meanwhile  keep  this,  my  address."  He  handed  her  a 
card  and  passed  on,  for  he  was  a  good  man  and  rich, 
with  many  people  to  make  happy  at  Christmas  time, 
and  to  be  both  rich  and  good  in  New  York  one  must 
work  very  hard  indeed. 

Going  out  into  the  street  again.  Bird  read  the 
name  on  the  card  before  slipping  it  into  her  pocket. 


THE   FIRE-ESCAPE  251 

Wonder  of  wonders !  it  was  Clarke,  the  same  as  that 
of  the  wall-paper  manufacturer  whose  manager  had 
asked  Terry  to  make  designs  for  him.  Of  course 
he  must  be  Marion  Clarke's  father.  The  address 
was  different  from  the  one  of  the  factory,  but  Bird 
knew  enough  of  the  city  now  to  guess  that  this 
number  on  the  card  was  of  his  house,  and  she 
now  remembered  that  people  had  said  that  he  con- 
ducted many  various  manufactories. 

So  he  had  built  the  School  of  Design  at  North- 
boro  that  she  had  dreamed  about  ever  since  she 
went  there  with  her  father  to  look  at  an  exhibition 
of  drawings !  Could  it  be  that  this  card  was  the 
Christmas  sign  of  hope  and  promise  to  her.''  She 
almost  flew  homeward  after  buying  the  candles  and 
little  toys,  and  laughed  and  chatted  so  cheerfully 
with  Billy  when  she  gave  him  his  supper,  that  her 
cousin  Larry,  who  had  always  teased  her  for  being 
set  up,  remarked  to  his  mother,  "  Ladybird  is  com- 
ing down  from  her  perch  some ;  maybe  she'll  get  to 
be  like  us,  after  all."  But  it  was  upward,  not  down- 
ward, that  the  brave,  clipped  wings  were  struggling. 

Between  Christmas  and  New  Year  there  came  a 
snow-storm,  and  then  bitterly  cold  weather.  In 
Laurelville  snow  meant  sleighing,  coasting,  bracing 


252  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

air,  and  rosy  cheeks ;  in  East  24th  Street  it  signified 
soaked  skirts,  sodden  shoes,  and  sore  throats,  while 
for  Billy  it  brought  unhappy  shut-in  days,  for  his 
crutch  slipped  dangerously  in  icy  weather. 

One  evening  Mrs.  O'More  was  called  out  to  sit 
with  a  sick  neighbour.  She  told  Bird  not  to  wait  up 
as  she  might  be  late,  and  she  would  take  the  key 
with  her,  as  the  boys  had  keys  of  their  own  if  they 
came  in  first. 

Bird  was  used  to  thus  staying  shut  into  the  flat 
alone,  and  so  after  she  heard  the  key  turn  in  the 
door  of  their  narrow  hallway,  she  amused  herself  for 
perhaps  an  hour  by  drawing,  and  then  went  to  bed. 
She  had  been  dragging  Billy  about  on  his  sled  up 
and  down  the  street  all  the  afternoon,  so  she  soon 
fell  into  a  heavy  sleep. 

It  must  have  been  a  couple  of  hours  after  when 
she  waked  up  suddenly  and  tried  vainly  to  think 
where  she  was.  The  room  felt  hot  and  airless,  and  a 
strange  smell  of  scorched  leather  filled  the  air.  She 
managed  to  get  on  her  feet,  pulled  on  a  few  clothes, 
and  tried  to  open  a  side  window,  but  it  stuck  fast. 
Going  to  the  front,  she  raised  the  sash,  and  as  she  did 
so,  a  cloud  of  smoke  poured  into  the  room,  while  the 
shouts  and  clashing  of  gongs  in  the  street  told  what 
it  was  that  had  wakened  her  —  the  fire-engines !     The 


THE   FIRE-ESCAPE  253 

great  sales  stables  with  their  tons  of  hay  and  straw 
were  on  fire,  and  the  house  also,  while  in  the  street 
all  was  in  an  uproar  of  frightened  horses  and  men. 

Rushing  back  to  her  room,  she  shook  Billy  awake 
and,  wrapping  a  few  clothes  about  him,  dragged  him 
toward  the  hall  door.  It  was  locked  of  course,  as 
Mrs.  O'More  had  taken  the  key.  By  this  time  the 
smoke  and  flames  were  pouring  in  the  front  windows. 
Ah,  the  fire-escape !  Through  the  kitchen  she  strug- 
gled, and  out  on  to  the  icy  balcony,  having  the  sense 
to  close  the  window  behind  her. 

The  back  yards  were  full  of  firemen,  and  excited 
people  hung  from  the  windows  of  opposite  buildings. 
Bird  tried  to  raise  the  trap  in  the  floor  door,  but  the 
boxes  of  frozen  earth  that  had  held  the  morning- 
glories  bore  it  down,  making  it  useless,  and  the  one 
below  was  hopelessly  heaped  with  litter. 

Would  nobody  see  her?  Billy  clung  to  her,  sob- 
bing pitifully,  for  he  was  lightly  covered,  and  shiv- 
ered with  cold  as  well  as  fear.  The  window-frame 
inside  was  catching,  and  heat  also  came  up  from 
below.  Was  this  the  end  ?  Must  the  wild  bird  die 
in  her  cage  ? 

Suddenly  a  great  shout  arose  in  the  rear ;  people 
had  seen  and  were  pointing  them  out.  Up  came  the 
firemen,  climbing,  clinging,  battering  down  the  obstruc- 


254  AUNT  JIMxMY'S   WILL 

tions  before  them.  Ah,  those  wonderful  firemen  that 
keep  our  faith  in  old-time  valour ! 

A  moment  more,  and  an  axe  struck  open  the  pris- 
oned trap-door,  a  head  came  through,  and  a  voice 
cried,  "Good  God,  it's  Bird  and  little  Billy!" 

"  Dave,  my  fireman  !  "  sobbed  the  boy,  flinging  him- 
self into  the  strong  arms.  "Take  him,"  commanded 
Bird,  as  the  man  hesitated  an  instant ;  "  I  can  follow." 
Down  the  ladder  they  went  step  by  step  until  the 
flames  from  the  lower  story  crept  through  and 
stopped  them  again,  and  the  slender  fire  ladder,  held 
by  strong  arms,  shot  up  to  them,  and  Dave's  mate 
grasped  Bird  and  carried  her  down  to  safety.  Then 
the  firemen  cheered,  and  tears  rolled  down  Big  Dave's 
cheeks  unchecked. 

Kind,  if  rough,  people  took  them  in  and  warmed 
and  fed  them,  and  more  kind  people  guided  Mrs. 
O'More  to  them  when  she  rushed  frantically  home. 
But  little  Billy  had  suffered  a  nervous  shock,  and  lay 
there  moaning  and  seeming  to  think  that  the  fire  still 
pursued  him. 

"  He  will  need  great  care  and  nursing  to  pull 
him  through,  for  he  is  naturally  delicate,"  said  the 
doctor  the  next  day  when  they  had  moved  into  a 
couple  of  furnished  rooms  that  were  rented  to  Mrs. 
O'More  by  a   friend  in  a   near-by  street  until   she 


THE   FIRE-ESCAPE  255 

could  pull  herself  together,  as  they  had  lost  every- 
thing. "  He  must  either  go  to  a  hospital  or  have 
a  nurse,"  continued  the  doctor,  gravely.  But  Mrs. 
O'More  could  not  be  made  to  see  it. 

"  His  father'd  never  forgive  me  if  I  put  him 
out  o'  me  hands,"  she  said ;  "  he'll  pick  up  from 
the  fright  after  a  bit,  and  what  with  John  away, 
and  never  saving  a  cent  of  cash  no  more  than  the  boys, 
and  the  business  all  burned  out  along  with  us,  I've 
not  money  in  hand  for  the  wasting  on  nurses." 

Bird  knew  better,  —  knew  that  Billy  was  very 
sick,  and  she  could  not  let  him  die  so.  Ah  !  the 
keepsake,  the  precious  coin !  Now  was  the  time  to 
spend  it,  for  there  could  be  no  greater  necessity 
than  this.  What  if  it  was  not  enough  ?  Even  if 
it  was  not  much,  it  might  do  until  her  uncle  got 
back,  and  then  she  knew  Billy  would  have  care  if 
his  father  begged  in  the  street  for  it. 

Going  away  in  a  corner,  she  unfastened  the  silver 
chain  and  detached  the  little  bag  from  it.  With 
difficulty  she  ripped  the  thong  stitches,  but  instead 
of  a  coin,  out  of  many  wrappings  fell  a  slender 
band  of  gold  set  with  one  large  diamond.  As  she 
turned  the  ring  over  in  surprise,  some  letters  within 
caught  her  eye  —  "  Bertha  Rawley,  from  her  god- 
father, J.  S." 


256  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

This  was  the  name  of  Terence  O'More's  mother, 
and  the  ring  had  been  a  wedding  gift  from  her 
godfather,  and  the  one  valuable  possession  that  she 
had  clung  to  all  her  troubled  life.  But  Bird  knew 
nothing  of  this. 

What  could  Bird  do  with  it  ?  She  pondered  — 
her  city  life  had  made  her  shrewd ;  she  knew  the 
miseries  of  the  poor  who  went  to  the  pawn  shops, 
and  guessed  that  any  one  in  the  neighbourhood 
might  undervalue  the  ring,  or  likely  enough  say 
that  she  stole  it. 

Mr.  Clarke  —  she  would  go  to  him  !  Now  was  the 
time  !  She  borrowed  a  hat  and  wrap  from  the 
woman  of  whom  the  rooms  were  rented  and  stole 
out.  In  an  hour  she  came  back  with  a  triumphant 
look  upon  her  face,  and  laying  a  roll  of  bills  before 
her  aunt,  said,  "  I've  sold  my  keepsake ;  now  we 
will  have  a  nurse  for  Billy  right  away." 

After  she  understood  about  the  money,  and 
found  that  it  was  one  hundred  dollars,  Mrs.  O'More 
broke  down  and  cried  like  a  baby,  telling  Bird  that 
she  was  a  real  lady  and  no  mistake.  And  then 
adding,  to  Bird's  indignation,  "  I  wonder  did  you 
get  the  value  o'  the  ring,  or  did  he  cheat  you,  the 
old  skin  !  "  But,  nevertheless,  the  nurse  came,  and 
not  an  hour  too  soon. 


THE   FIRE-ESCAPE  257 

Meanwhile  a  certain  rich  man  sat  at  his  library 
desk,  holding  a  diamond  ring  in  his  hand,  saying, 
half  aloud  :  "  I  believe  the  girl's  story,  though  I  sup- 
pose most  people  would  say  she  stole  the  ring,  or 
was  given  it  by  those  who  did.  It  is  healthier  to 
beheve  than  to  doubt.  I  shall  investigate  the  matter 
to-morrow  and  keep  the  ring  for  the  child.  It  is 
a  fine  stone  worth  four  times  the  sum  I  gave  her, 
but  she  would  not  take  any  more  than  the  one 
hundred  dollars,  nor  was  it  wise  for  me  to  press 
her.  Ah  !  letters  inside !  Bertha  Rawley  !  She 
said  her  grandmother  was  an  Englishwoman.  That 
new  superintendent  of  the  Northboro  Art  School 
is  named  Rawley.  He  studied  at  South  Kensington. 
I  wonder  if  they  could  be  related.  O'More.  I 
think  that  name  comes  into  that  Mill  Farm  deed 
mix-up.  I  will  write  to  Rawley  at  once  and  see 
what  is  known  about  the  girl  in  Laurelville,  for 
something  tells  me  that  child  is  '  one  of  these  little 
ones'  who  should  be  helped." 


XV 
THE   BIRD   IS   FREED 

January  was  half  over  before  it  was  possible  for 
the  Lanes  to  take  their  long-promised  trip  to  New 
York  to  look  up  Bird  and  bring  her  back,  as  her 
uncle  had  exacted,  a  legal  sister  to  Lammy. 

Moving  from  the  small  house  into  the  large  one, 
even  though  the  necessary  repairs  were  to  be  made 
by  degrees,  was  more  of  an  undertaking  than  Mrs. 
Lane  had  bargained  for.  Also  it  took  Lammy  a 
long  time  to  get  "  the  bones  back  in  his  legs,"  though 
happiness  and  Dr.  Jedd's  tonics  worked  wonders. 

Dr.  Jedd  had  suggested  that  a  furnace  required 
much  less  care  than  three  or  four  stoves,  and  so 
one  had  been  put  in.  Mrs.  Jedd,  who  had  very 
good  taste,  and  a  tactful  way  of  expressing  it  that 
never  gave  offence,  suggested  to  Mrs.  Lane  that, 
instead  of  covering  the  mahogany  parlour  set  with 
red  plush,  the  floor  with  a  red-figured  tapestry 
brussels,  replacing  the  small  window-panes  with 
great  sheets   of  glass,   bricking   up    the  wide   fire- 

258 


THE   BIRD   IS   FREED  259 

place,  and  then  closing  the  whole  room  up  except, 
as  Joshua  said,  for  funerals,  it  should  be  turned 
into  a  comfortable  living-room. 

This  suited  Joshua,  the  older  boys,  and  Lammy 
exactly,  and  though  Lauretta  Ann  demurred  at 
first,  saying,  "  It  didn't  seem  hardly  respectable  not 
to  hev  a  best  room,"  she  quickly  yielded,  and  said 
that  it  "would  be  a  real  comfort  to  have  a  sepa- 
rate place  to  eat  in  when  there  was  a  lot  of  bak- 
ing on  hand  and  the  kitchen  all  of  a  tousle, 
likewise  to  set  in  after  meals." 

So  the  old  furniture  was  recovered  with  a  suitable 
dull  green  corduroy,  and  some  comfortable  Morris 
chairs  added,  "that  pa  and  the  boys  wouldn't  be 
tempted  to  set  back  on  the  hind  legs  of  the  ma- 
hogany, which  is  brittle."  A  deep  red  rug,  that 
would  not  have  to  be  untacked  at  housecleaning 
times,  covered  the  centre  of  the  floor,  with  Grand- 
mother Lane's  long  Thanksgiving  dinner-table  in  the 
centre,  and  a  smaller  round  one  with  folding  leaves 
in  the  corner,  for  the  entertaining  of  the  friends  who 
were  constantly  dropping  in  for  a  chat  and  a  cup 
of  tea  and  crullers  or  a  cut  of  mince  pie,  for  no 
one  in  the  county  had  such  a  reputation  for  crullers 
and  mince  meat,  combined  with  a  lavish  use  of  them, 
as  Lauretta  Ann  Lane. 


26o  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

Next  Mrs.  Jedd  ventured  to  suggest  that  the 
fireplace  be  left  open  and  some  of  the  big  logs, 
with  which  Aunt  Jimmy  had  always  kept  the 
woodshed  filled,  simply  because  her  mother  had 
done  so  before  her,  used  for  a  nightly  hearth  fire. 

Mrs.  Lane  said  she  hadn't  any  andirons  and  the 
ashes  would  make  dust,  but  Joshua  was  so  pleased 
with  the  idea  of  returning  to  old  ways  that  she 
yielded;  and  when,  on  the  old  fire-board  being 
removed  to  clean  the  chimney  of  soot  and  swallows' 
nests,  a  pair  of  tall  andirons  and  a  fender  were 
found,  the  matter  settled  itself,  and  Mrs.  Lane  soon 
came  to  take  pride  in  the  cheerful  blaze,  while  the 
best  dishes,  which  were  of  really  handsome  blue 
and  white  India  porcelain,  were  ranged  in  racks 
over  the  mantel-shelf. 

Then  there  was  a  sunny  southwest  window,  and 
Joshua  fastened  a  long  shelf  in  front  of  this  for 
his  wife's  geraniums,  wax-plant,  and  wandering 
Jew  that  had  shut  out  the  light  from  the  best 
window  in  the  kitchen,  and  these  brought  in  the 
welcome  touch  of  greenery  in  spite  of  the  parti- 
coloured crimped  paper  with  which  she  insisted 
upon  decorating  the  pots. 

"  How  Bird  will  love  this  room ! "  Lammy  said 
a  dozen  times  a  day,  as  he  remembered  how  prettily 


THE   BIRD   IS   FREED  261 

she  had  arranged  the  scanty  furnishings  at  the 
house  above  the  cross-roads,  and  disliked  every- 
thing that  savoured  of  show  or  cheap  finery,  and 
it  seemed  to  him  that  Bird's  companionship  was 
the  only  thing  necessary  to  prove  that  heaven, 
instead  of  being  a  far-away  region,  at  least  had  a 
branch  at  the  fruit  farm  in  Laurelville. 

The  doctor  said  that  Lammy  must  not  return  to 
school  until  the  midwinter  term,  and  so  he  spent 
his  time  in  the  shop  back  of  the  bam,  making 
many  little  knickknacks  for  the  house,  not  a  few 
of  them  being  intended  for  Bird's  room,  for  which 
he  also  designed  a  low  book-shelf  that  made  a 
seat  in  the  dormer  window,  and  a  table  with  a  hinge 
that  she  could  use  when  she  wished  to  draw  or  paint, 
and  then  close  against  the  wall. 

This  room  was  next  to  Mrs.  Lane's,  and  had  two 
dormer  windows  and  a  deep  press  closet  lighted  by 
a  high  window,  under  which  the  washstand  stood. 
It  was  furnished  with  a  white  enamelled  bed  and  a 
plain  white  painted  dresser,  upon  which,  Lammy 
said.  Bird  could  paint  whatever  flowers  fehe  chose. 
There  were  frilled  curtains  of  striped  dimity  at 
the  windows,  and  a  quilt  and  bed  valance  of  the 
same,  for  Mrs.  Lane  despised  any  ornamental 
fabric  that  would  not  wash  and  "bile."     The  floor 


262  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

was  covered  with  matting,  but  three  sheepskin 
rugs  of  home  raising  and  dyed  fox  colour  were 
placed,  one  at  the  side  of  the  bed,  one  before 
the  bureau,  and  one  under  the  wall  table,  upon 
which  Bird's  paint-box  stood  close  to  the  leather- 
paper  portfolio  that  Lammy  had  made  to  hold  the 
precious  sketches. 

He  had  tried  his  best  to  find  a  wall  paper  with 
a  red  "piney"  border,  but  they  told  him  at  the 
great  paper  warehouse  at  Northboro  that  they  had 
never  seen  such  a  paper,  so  he  took  wild-rose  sprays 
instead. 

Lammy  had  also  filled  a  small  bark-covered  box 
with  Christmas  ferns,  ebony  spleenwort,  wintergreen, 
partridge-berries,  and  moss,  for  the  window-ledge, 
while  fresh  festoons  of  ground-pine  topped  the 
windows  even  though  Christmas  was  long  past.  In 
fact,  Lammy  could  hardly  keep  away  from  the  room, 
and  often  when  he  went  in,  he  met  his  mother,  for 
whom  it  had  the  same  attraction,  and  then  they 
would  both  laugh  happily  and,  closing  the  door, 
come  away  hand  in  hand. 

It  never  occurred  to  a  single  member  of  this 
simple,  warm-hearted  family,  that  there  was  any 
possibility  of  there  being  a  slip  between  cup  and 
lip,  and  in  this  faith  they  presently  set  out  upon 


THE   BIRD   IS   FREED  263 

their  pilgrimage  to  New  York,  for  which  event 
Lammy  wore  a  high  collar  and  a  new  suit,  his 
first  to  have  long  trousers. 

The  minister's  wife  and  Dinah  Lucky  took  joint 
charge  of  the  house  while  the  Lanes  were  in 
New  York,  for  they  intended  staying  several  days, 
perhaps  a  week,  as  Dr.  Jedd  said  the  change 
was  exactly  what  they  all  needed  after  the  doings 
and  anxieties  of  the  past  eight  months,  and  Mr. 
Cole,  the  lawyer  from  Northboro,  gave  them  the 
card  of  a  good  hotel  close  to  the  Grand  Central 
Station,  where  they  would  be  well  treated  and 
neither  snubbed  nor  overcharged.  For  he  well 
knew  that  in  a  New  York  hotel,  Laurelville's  Sun- 
day-best clothes  looked  as  strangely  out  of  place 
as  Dr.  Jedd's  carryall  would  on  Fifth  Avenue. 

During  the  past  few  weeks,  Alfred  Rawley,  the 
new  superintendent  of  the  Northboro  School  of 
Industrial  Art,  had  made  several  visits  to  the  Lanes, 
at  first  upon  business  connected  with  Aunt  Jimmy's 
legacy,  and  then  because  he  seemed  to  like  to  come. 
He  was  a  fine-looking  man  of  fifty,  and  not  only  a 
stranger  in  Northboro,  but  a  bachelor  without  home 
ties.  He  seemed  greatly  interested  in  Bird,  about 
whom  Lammy  talked  so  constantly  that  the  visitor 
could  not  but  hear  of  her,  and  asked  to  see  the  port- 


264  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

folio  of  drawings  in  which  were  some  of  hers,  and  he 
praised  them  very  highly  for  their  promise. 

The  Lanes  arrived  in  New  York  just  before  dark 
of  a  Tuesday  afternoon,  and  spent  the  rest  of  the 
evening  in  looking  out  of  their  windows  at  the  re- 
markable and  confused  thoroughfare  below  them  that 
was  made  still  more  of  a  spectacle  by  the  glare  of 
electric  lights.  Lammy  wished  to  go  and  look  for 
Bird  at  once,  but  his  father  wouldn't  hear  of  doing  so 
until  broad  daylight,  saying  :  — 

"  Sakes  alive,  it  ain't  safe.  I've  been  across  Hill's 
swamp  without  a  lantern  on  a  foggy  night  a-callin' 
up  lost  sheep,  but  that  down  there  with  them  queer 
kind  o'  two-wheel  carts  that  bob  along  in  narrow 
places  like  teeter  snipe  crossin'  the  mill-dam,  I'll  not 
venture  it,  leastwise  not  with  mother  along."  So 
Lammy  went  to  bed  to  kill  time,  but  a  little  later  curi- 
osity got  the  better  of  Joshua,  and  he  spent  an  hour 
in  the  lobby,  where  he  learned,  besides  several  other 
things,  that  the  "  teeter  snipe "  carts  were  called 
"hansome  cabs." 

To  the  surprise  of  the  early-rising  country  folk,  it 
was  eleven  o'clock  the  next  morning  before  they 
found  themselves  ready  to  take  a  south-bound  Fourth 
Avenue  car,  for  the  visit  to  Bird,  and  Joshua  told  the 
conductor  four  times  in  ten  blocks  where  they  wished 


THE   BIRD   IS   FREED  265 

to  get  off,  and  what  they  were  going  for,  while  Mrs. 
Lane  sat  still,  smiling  and  quivering  all  over  from  the 
shiney  tips  of  her  first  boots  (other  than  Congress 
gaiters)  to  the  jet  fandango  atop  of  a  real  Northboro 
store  bonnet,  and  the  smile  was  so  infectious  that  it 
soon  spread  through  the  entire  car. 

When  they  got  off  at  24th  Street  and  made  the 
sidewalk  in  tremulous  safety,  they  marched  east  in 
silence,  counting  the  numbers  as  they  went. 

'"Tain't  much  of  a  neighbourhood,"  sniffed  Mrs. 
Lane,  wondering  at  the  ash  barrels  and  pails  of  swill 
that  lined  the  way. 

"Don't  jedge  hasty,  mother,"  said  Joshua;  "we 
mustn't  be  hard  on  city  folks  that  ain't  got  our  ad- 
vantages in  the  way  o'  pigs  to  turn  swill  into  meat,  and 
bog-holes  ter  swaller  ashes  what  don't  go  to  road- 
makin'." 

"  We  must  be  near  there,"  gasped  Lauretta  Ann, 
presently.  She  had  been  persuaded  to  have  her  new 
gown  made  a  "  stylish  length  "  by  Hope  Snippin,  the 
village  dressmaker,  in  consequence  of  which  she  was 
grasping  her  skirts  on  both  sides,  floundering  and 
plunging  along  very  much  like  an  old-style  market 
schooner,  with  its  sails  fouled  in  the  rigging. 

"  Oh,  mother,  look  there  !  "  said  Lammy,  with 
white,  trembling  lips.      He   had  been  running  on 


266  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

ahead  and  keeping  track  of  the  numbers,  but  he 
now  stood  still,  pointing  to  a  half  block  of  burned 
and  ruined  buildings,  walled  in  ice  and  draped  with 
cruel  icicles  that  seemed  to  pierce  his  very  flesh  as 
he  gazed  at  them. 

For  a  minute  they  were  all  fairly  speechless  and 
stood  open-mouthed,  then  Joshua,  recovering  first, 
settled  his  teeth  firmly  back  in  place,  and  laugh- 
ing feebly,  said :  "  Been  a  fire,  I  reckon ;  thet's 
nothing.  I've  heard  somethin'  gets  afire  as  often 
as  every  week  in  N'York.  They  must  be  some- 
where, and  we'll  jest  calm  down  and  ask  the  neigh- 
bours over  the  way  —  in  course  they'll  know." 

But  to  Joshua's  wonder  they  didn't,  at  least  not 
definitely,  and  all  he  could  learn  was  that  the 
O' Mores  had  moved  somewhere  a  couple  of  blocks 
"over." 

"Gosh,  but  ain't  N'York  a  heathen  town,"  mut- 
tered Joshua;  "jest  think,  folks  burned  out  an'  their 
neighbours  don't  take  no  trouble  about  'em ;  we 
might  even  get  knocked  down,  and  I  bet  they 
wouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised.  I'd  like  to  strike  fer 
home." 

As  they  wandered  helplessly  along  block  after 
block,  the  crowd  of  workmen  and  children  in  the 
streets  coming  home  to  dinner  told  that  it  was  noon. 


'  Bird  was  found  at  last. 


THE   BIRD   IS   FREED  267 

There  was  no  use  in  going  they  did  not  know 
where,  and  they  had  not  met  a  single  policeman 
whom  they  could  question.  As  they  stood  upon 
a  corner  consulting  as  to  what  they  had  best  do, 
a  group  of  girls  coming  up  and  dividing  passed 
on  either  side  of  them,  one  bold-looking  chit  in  a 
red  plush  hat  and  soiled  gown  singing  out  some- 
thing about  "  When  Reuben  comes  to  town," 
and   giving   Lammy  a  push   at  the   same   time. 

As  he  turned  to  avoid  her,  he  heard  his  name 
called,  and  breaking  from  her  mates,  a  slender  little 
figure  with  big  black  eyes  dropped  her  satchel  and 
flung  her  arms  around  his  neck,  heedless  of  the 
merriment  and  jeers  of  her  companions.  Bird  was 
found  at  last ! 

There  was  no  longer  any  use  in  trying  to  keep 
up  the  barrier  of  pride,  or  of  pretending  she  was 
happy,  and  Bird  led  her  friends  home  to  the  new 
fiat,  wherein  O'More  had  established  his  family  on 
his  return. 

That  afternoon  there  was  a  long  powwow  in 
which  Mrs.  O'More  made  herself  very  disagreeable, 
as  she  had  come  to  rely  upon  Bird  and  did  not 
wish  to  have  Billy  back  upon  her  hands,  but  John 
O'More  stood  firm  by  his  promise,  saying,  even  if 
he'd  never  made  it.  Bird  should  have  her  choice  after 


268  AUNT   JIMMY'S   WILL 

the  way  she'd  stood  by  Billy  in  time  of  need.  "  She 
stuck  by  her  blood  kin,  and  she's  a  lady  through  and 
through,  and  we're  different,  and  it's  neither's  fault 
that  we're  a  reproach  to  each  other,"  was  O'More's 
summing  up.  "  If  you  can  keep  her,  you  can  take 
her,  but  God  help  little  Billy !  The  doctor  says 
good  care  a  couple  o'  years  more,  an'  he'll  have  a 
chance  for  his  leg.  I  can  pay  for  care,  but  it's  not 
to  be  bought  around  here." 

Mrs.  Lane  saw  the  tears  in  the  rough  man's  eyes, 
and  her  big  mother-heart  throbbed,  and  to  some  pur- 
pose, as  usual. 

"  Our  doctor's  wife  would  take  him  to  board,  I 
guess,"  she  said,  after  thinking  a  minute.  "  She  took 
a  little  boy  from  Northboro  last  summer,  and  did 
real  well  by  him,  her  children  bein'  grown  now  and 
out  of  hand.  Dr.  Jedd,  he'd  give  him  care  besides. 
I'll  take  him  along  with  us  if  you  think  he'll  grieve, 
and  you  can  write  or  come  up  and  settle  it." 

It  was  only  then  that  Bird's  happiness  was  com- 
plete, and  little  Billy  hugged  and  hugged  her,  and 
cried  in  his  piping  voice,  "  Now  we're  going  to  fly 
away  out  of  the  cage  to  your  country  for  sure  this 
time,"  and  Bird  answered  joyfully  and  truthfully, 
"  Yes." 

"  And  the  sooner  we'll  fly,  the  better  I'll  like  it," 


THE   BIRD    IS   FREED  269 

added  Joshua,  "  This  very  afternoon  would  suit 
me." 

But  Lauretta  Ann  had  determined  upon  two  things : 
she  was  going  to  buy  the  material  for  a  black  silk 
gown  in  New  York,  also  a  handsome  china  jar  to 
contain  the  remains  of  the  pewter  tea-pot  and  be  "  a 
moniment  to  Aunt  Jimmy,"  in  the  centre  of  the  India 
china  on  the  living-room  mantel-shelf.  Mrs.  O'More, 
sullenly  accepting  her  defeat,  and  now  in  her  element, 
which  was  buying  dress  goods,  offered  to  conduct  the 
stranger  through  the  mazes  of  Sixth  Avenue  depart- 
ment stores ;  so  after  a  hasty  lunch  they  set  out, 
while  her  husband  and  Joshua  Lane  talked  matters 
over,  and  the  children  were  in  a  seventh  heaven  of 
anticipation. 

"  One  thing's  on  me  mind,  —  that  ring  the  girl  sold 
to  buy  doctorin'  for  Billy.  I  only  hope  she  got  the 
worth  of  it,  and  that  the  man's  on  the  square,  for  she 
won't  give  me  the  name  of  the  gent  that  bought  it, 
and  when  I'm  picked  a  bit  out  o'  me  trouble,  I'd  like 
to  buy  back  the  same,  for  the  keepsake  is  her  only 
fortune.  Maybe  some  day  you  can  coax  the  name 
out  o'  her." 

"  Likely  I  can  —  plenty  o'  time  for  that,"  drawled 
Joshua,  who  usually  knew  more  than  he  appeared  to. 


270  AUNT   JIMMY'S    WILL 

The  next  afternoon  five  tired  but  happy  people 
arrived  at  the  Centre  and  electrified  the  neighbour- 
hood by  hiring  a  hack  to  take  them  to  Laurelville, 
Joshua  having  only  been  persuaded  to  stay  two  days 
of  the  proposed  week's  excursion. 

"I'm  goin'  to  have  Hope  Snippin  up  to-morrow 
morning  to  shorten  my  gown,"  was  Mrs.  Lane's  greet- 
ing to  the  minister's  wife  when  she  opened  the  door 
in  alarm  at  the  unexpected  return,  while  Twinkle 
leaped  into  Bird's  arms,  fairly  screaming  with  dog 

joy- 
It  was  evident,  however,  that  the  sudden  return  was 
not  wholly  a  surprise.  Somebody  had  sent  a  telegram 
to  somebody,  and  Joshua's  manner  in  the  interval 
before  supper  cast  the  suspicion  upon  him.  After 
Bird  had  seen  her  pretty  room  and  coaxed  Billy, 
who  was  nodding  drowsily,  to  eat  his  bread  and  milk 
and  go  to  bed  before  the  real  supper,  she  came  down 
to  the  living-room,  where  the  table  was  spread  for  the 
first  time  instead  of  in  the  kitchen,  for  Dinah  Lucky 
came  in  a  few  hours  every  day  now  to  do  the  heavy 
work  and  give  Mrs.  Lane  more  leisure.  A  stranger 
was  sitting  by  the  fire.  He  rose  and  took  Bird  by  the 
hand  very  gently  and  drew  her  to  the  lounge  beside 
him,  at  the  same  time  handing  her  a  letter.  She  was 
too  much  surprised  to  notice  that  no  one  introduced 


THE   BIRD   IS   FREED  271 

her  or  told  his  name.     She  opened  the  letter;   her 
keepsake  ring  rolled  into  her  lap  as  she  read :  — 

"Dear  Bertha  O'More  :  I  know  all  about  you 
now,  and  I  believed  in  you  from  the  first.  Here  is 
your  ring;  wear  it  about  your  neck  as  before  for  a 
keepsake,  until  some  day,  ten  years  or  so  hence  — 
then  ask  the  one  you  love  best  to  put  it  upon 
your  left  hand.  With  the  respect  of  your  friend, 
"Marion  Clarke's  Father. 

"  P.  S.  The  bearer  of  this  letter  is  Alfred  Raw- 
ley,  your  grandmother's  youngest  brother ! " 

In  spite  of  her  bewilderment,  her  first  thought 
was,  "  So  he  was  really  Marion's  father ! "  Next 
spring  she  would  beg  him  to  give  Tessie  the  holiday 
that  he  had  offered  her  that  Christmastide  in  the 
twilight  of  the  church. 

Joshua  Lane  capered  about  like  a  young  kid  as 
his  wife  tried  to  chase  him  into  a  corner,  exclaim- 
ing, "  Now  you  jest  up  and  tell  me  how  long 
you've  known  all  this,  and  not  told  your  lawful 
wife ! " 

"Wal,  let  me  see,"  he  said,  counting  on  his 
fingers;  "considerable  longer  than  it'll  take  us  to 
eat  supper,"  was  all  the  answer  she  received. 


272  AUNT  JIMMY'S   WILL 

That  night  Bird  opened  her  bedroom  window 
and  looked  out  into  the  frosty  moonlight,  where 
far  away  in  the  distance  the  runaway  Christmas 
trees  were  outlined  against  the  sky  and  the  roots 
of  red  peony  that  Lammy  planted  were  waiting 
under  the  ground  for  their  spring  blooming  time 
to  come.  Stretching  out  her  arms  as  she  drew  in 
great  reviving  breaths  of  the  clear,  frosty  air, 
then  clasping  her  hands  together,  she  whispered, 
"  Terry,  dear,  you  know  it  all ;  you  know  your  Bird 
is  free  again,  and  that  she  remembers,  and  now 
you  must  help  her  to  fly  the  right  way." 


DOQTOWN 

'Being  some  Chapters  from  the  Annals  of  the  Waddles 
Family,  set  down  in  the  Language  of  the  House  People 

By  MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT 

Author  of  "  Tommy  Anne,"  "  Birdcraft,"  etc.,  etc. 

Illustrated  by  Portraits  from  Life  by  the  Author 

Cloth  12ino  $1.50,  net 

"  The  dogs  are  entirely  delightful,  made  alive  and  personal  as  only  the  closest 
intimacy  of  knowledge  and  understanding  could  make  them."  -  The  Nation. 

"  It  is  a  book  you  want  for  a  Christmas  present  for  the  child  or  grown-up  dog- 
lover."  —  A  nterican  Sportsman. 

FLOWERS  AND  FERNS  IN  THEIR  HAUNTS 

By  MABEL  OSGOOD   WRIGHT 

With  Illustrations  from  Photographs  by  the  Author  and 
J.  Horace  McFarland 

Cloth  12mo  $2.50,  net 

"  The  reader  of  Mrs.  Wright's  handsome  volume  will  wend  his  way  into  a  fairy 
world  of  loveliness,  and  find  not  only  serious  wildwood  lore,  but  poetry  also,  and 
sentiment  and  pictures  of  the  pen  that  will  stay  with  him  through  winter  days  of 
snow  and  ice.  ...  A  careful  and  interesting  companion,  its  many  illustrations  being 
particularly  useful."  —  New  York  Tribune. 

THE   FRIENDSHIP  OF  NATURE 

A  l^ew  England  Chronicle  of  Birds  and  Flowers 

By  MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT 

ISmo        Cloth,  75  cts.       Large  Paper,  $3.00 

"A  dainty  little  volume,  exhaling  the  perfume  and  radiating  the  hues  of  both  cul- 
tivated and  wild  flowers,  echoing  the  songs  of  birds,  and  illustrated  with  exquisite  pen 
pictures  of  bits  of  garden,  field,  and  woodland  scenery.  The  author  is  an  mtimate  of 
nature.  She  relishes  its  beauties  with  the  keenest  delight,  and  describes  them  with  a 
musical  flow  of  language  that  carries  us  along  from  a  'May  Day'  to  a  'Winter 
Mood  '  in  a  thoroughly  sustained  effort;  and  as  we  drift  with  the  current  of  her  fancy 
and  her  tribute  to  nature,  we  gather  much  that  is  informatory,  for  she  has  made  a 
close  study  of  the  habits  of  birds  and  the  legendry  of  flowers."  —  Richmond  Dispatch. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

66  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


Four=Footed  Americans  and  Their  Kin 

By  MABEL  OSGOOD  "WRIGHT 

Edited  by  Frank  M.  Chapman.    Illustrated  by 
Ernest  Seton-Thompson 

Cloth.    Crown  8vo.     $1.50,  net 

"  It  deserves  commendation  for  its  fascinating  style,  and  for  the  fund  of  in- 
formation which  it  contains  regarding  the  familiar  and  many  unfamiliar  animals 
of  this  country.  It  is  an  ideal  book  for  children,  and  doubtless  older  folk  will 
find  in  its  pages  much  of  interest."  — The  Dial. 

"  Books  like  this  are  cups  of  delight  to  wide-awake  and  inquisitive  girls  and 
boys.  Here  is  a  gossipy  history  of  American  quadrupeds,  bright,  entertaining, 
and  thoroughly  instructive.  The  text,  by  Mrs.  Wright,  has  all  the  fascination 
that  distinguishes  her  other  outdoor  books."  —  The  Independent. 


Citizen  Bird 

Scenes  from  Bird-life  in  Plain  English  for  a  Beginner 

By  MABEL  O.  WRIGHT  and  Dr.  ELLIOTT  COUES 

Profusely  illustrated  by  LouiS  Agassiz  Fuertes 

Cloth.    Crown  8vo.    $1.50,  net 

"  When  two  writers  of  marked  ability  in  both  literature  and  natural  history 
write  to  produce  a  work  giving  scope  to  their  special  talents,  the  public  has 
reason  to  expect  a  masterpiece  of  its  kind.  In  the  '  Citizen  Bird,'  by  Mabel  O. 
Wright  and  Dr.  Eluott  Coues,  this  expectation  is  realized  —  seldom  is  the  plan 
of  a  book  so  admirably  conceived,  and  in  every  detail  so  excellently  fulfilled." 

—  The  Dial. 

"  There  is  no  other  book  in  existence  so  well  fitted  for  arousing  and  direct- 
ing the  interest  that  all  children  feel  toward  the  birds."  —  Tribune,  Chicago. 

Birdcraft 

A  Field-Book  of  Two  Hundred  Song,  Game,  and  Water  Birds 

By  MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT 

With  eighty  full-page  plates  by  Louis  Agassiz  Fuertes 

"  One  of  the  best  books  that  amateurs  in  the  study  of  ornithology  can  find 
.  .  .  direct,  forcible,  plain,  and  pleasing."  —  Chautauquan. 

"  Of  books  on  birds  there  are  many,  all  more  or  less  valuable,  but  '  Bird- 
craft,'  by  Mabel  O.  Wright,  has  peculiar  merits  that  will  endear  it  to  amateur 
ornithologists.  ...  A  large  number  of  excellent  illustrations  throw  light  on 
the  text  and  help  to  make  a  book  that  will  arouse  the  delight  and  win  the  grati- 
tude of  every  lover  of  birds."  —  Saturday  Evening  Gazette,  Boston. 


THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

66  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


Tommy=Anne  and  the  Three  Hearts 

By  MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT 
With  many  illustrations  by  ALBERT  D.  BLASHFIELD 

Cloth.    Crown  8vo.    $1.50 

"  This  book  is  calculated  to  interest  children  in  nature,  and  grown  folks,  too, 
will  find  themselves  catching  the  author's  enthusiasm.  As  for  Tommy-Anne 
herself,  she  is  bound  to  make  friends  wherever  she  is  known.  The  more  of  such 
books  as  these,  the  better  for  the  children.  One  Tommy-Anne  is  worth  a  whole 
shelf  of  the  average  juvenile  literature."  —  Tkt  Critic. 

Wabeno,  the  Magician 

Tie  Sequel  to  Tommy-Amu  and  the  Three  Hearts 
By  MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT 

Fully  illustrated  by  JOSEPH  M.  Gleeson 

Cloth.    Crown  8vo.    $1.50 

"  Mrs.  Wright's  book  teaches  her  young  readers  to  use  their  eyes  and  ears, 
but  it  does  more  in  that  it  cultivates  in  them  a  genuine  love  for  nature  and  for 
every  member  of  the  animal  kingdom.  The  best  of  the  book  is  that  it  is  never 
dull."  —  Boston  Budget. 

The  Dream  Fox  Story  Book 

By  MABEL  OSGOOD   WRIGHT 

With  eighty  drawings  by  Oliver  Herford 

Cloth.    Small  quarto.    $1.50,  net 

Mrs.  Wright's  new  book  for  young  people  recounts  the  marvellous  adven- 
tures of  Billy  Benton,  his  acquaintance  with  the  Dream  Fox  and  the  Night  Mare, 
and  what  came  of  it.  It  differs  from  the  author's  previous  stories,  as  it  is  purely 
imaginative  and  somewhat  similar  to  "  Alice  in  Wonderland." 

There  are  eight  full-page  illustrations,  showing  Billy  at  moments  of  greatest 
interest,  and  also  seventy  drawings  scattered  throughout  the  text.  These  illus- 
trations are  by  Oliver  Herford,  who  has  entered  thoroughly  into  the  spirit  of  the 
text,  so  that  the  pictures  seem  an  integral  part  of  the  story. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

66  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


X  SOUTHERN  REGIONAl.  LIBRARY  FAaUTY 

HP 


A    000  133  614    8 


4    ^    £"^4^  ' 


's^»HfeiRr*t 


